


You Love Me, If You Love Me, Don't Let Go

by writerinacloud



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: A lot of kissing, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Anger, Angst, Anxiety, Bullying, Dancing, Decisions, Denial of Feelings, Disappointment, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Fights, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff, Gay Sex, Getting to Know Each Other, Happy Ending, Hate, Heartbreak, Here we go, I'll add tags so check them out, Insecurity, Jealousy, Juilliard, London, Love, M/M, Memories, Mental Health Issues, Misunderstandings, New York, Niall is a Good Friend, One Night Stands, Panic Attacks, Physical Pain, Pining, Plans For The Future, Secret Relationship, Slow Burn, Surprises, Tension, Texting, and he knows he likes Louis a bit more than he maybe should, breaking up, but no smut, dance fic, harry is an asshole, mention of a minor character death, old trauma, until he sees Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2018-12-20 05:22:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 98,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11914080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerinacloud/pseuds/writerinacloud
Summary: His name is up there. He’s the only Harry in this group. His eyes land on Louis, who swallows thickly. He gives Harry a small smile, brows raised a little. Harry is not dancing a solo. He’s dancing with the boy, who he never remembers. How the hell can he ever get anyone’s attention, when he doesn’t have any connection with this guy.-Or the one where Harry and Louis are students at The Juilliard School of Performing Arts and are dancing in the same group. Harry never notices Louis, the boy who is a year younger than him, mostly sticks to himself and practices hard (or that's what Harry thinks). Louis on the other hand always sees the confident and focused Harry. Now they’re paired for a duo performance and they have to make it work, even though Louis’ eyes are towards London and Harry’s are towards a career after graduation, which he thinks he can only get with a solo performance.This fic is inspired by this beautiful song and video <3





	1. The Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone :)
> 
> Here we are, me posting my first Larry fic in almost a year. I'm excited and nervous to share this with every single one of you and I hope you'll like this as much as I've liked writing this. 
> 
> A huge thank you goes to my [friend](http://backtobeingus.tumblr.com/) for reading and always being there for me. She is the person, who also linked me to the [prompt](http://nottooldforthisship.tumblr.com/post/164035936896/prompt-from-this-amazing-video). Thank you for that <3
> 
> I hope there won't be any typos or mistakes and if there are, then it's completely my fault. (Hello from a girl whose first language isn't English :D)
> 
> Of course there's music, that I listen to while I write, so I'll add all of those songs at the beginning of each chapter :) 
> 
> Chapter 1: The Kills / What New York Used To Be

His alarm makes an obnoxious sound next to his ear. Almost like it’d be saying “Louis, get the hell up, now!” How did it even get under his pillow, Louis doesn’t know. But he still has a bit more time before he has to go to rehearsals. Just a bit more sleep, just a minute or two (like it would change something). With his eyes half shut, he grabs the phone and snoozes the alarm. Just five more minutes. 

When Louis opens his eyes the next time, he feels like he slept a bit longer than just five minutes. He truly fell back asleep right away and his phone didn’t even have to wake him. He feels good, this day is going to be a good one. He sits up on his futon bed and stretches his hands towards the ceiling. 

His back cracks, some of his muscles sore from yesterday’s training. He walks over to his window and opens the blinds. The sun hits him in the eyes, too high to look like it’d still be only eight in the morning at this time of the year. Louis gets a bad feeling. It claws the insides of his stomach. He swallows, before he walks back over to his bed and picks up his phone. He’d like to close his eyes and not look at the screen, see the time. But there’s no time to be scared. Not right now. He sighs and presses the home button. 

 

“Shit,” he whispers to himself. Almost 10.30. His heart starts to fly in his chest, making adrenaline pump in his veins. He feels his palms sweating, just in the matter of seconds. 

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit…” plays on repeat in his head, while his hands scramble his training gear into a sports bag. A grey top from the floor, black sweats from the back of his chair, fresh pair of underwear from a drawer, his phone following. He throws a t-shirt and a sweatshirt on and another pair of sweats, not caring if they’re clean or not. 

He really should’ve thought more about practicing late in the evening, before he actually did it. He really shouldn’t have stayed up so late last night, even though he feels a bit rusty. He just wants everything to be perfect for the London audition he has in two weeks. He wants to have his set ready, he wants to get that spot. 

Of course, Juilliard is a dream, all he has ever dreamt of. But he wants to go back home, where he can feel at ease. Not the loneliness and isolation he feels in New York. Not that he wouldn’t have company, he has actually made friends here. But there’s a loneliness that the city holds and Louis swims in it. 

He wants to be closer to his mum and dad, closer to his siblings, closer to his friends who he has managed to keep in touch with. New York just isn’t for him. But Juilliard, it has given him so much and even more. And he wouldn’t want to leave this opportunity. Then again, sometimes he feels like he’s air, no one sees, no one hears, and sometimes no one even cares. 

 

“I didn’t know someone was still here,” Aron looks at Louis with wide eyes, cleaning his saxophone. 

“Yeah, wasn’t meant to be,” Louis says out of breath, almost running into the bathroom to splash cold water on his face and brush his teeth quickly. Just enough to have a fresh breath. 

“Take this,” Aron throws something at Louis, when he gets out of the bathroom and catches it barely in his full arms. A banana. 

“Thanks!” Louis hollers before he’s out the door and running towards the practice halls. At least he’s living on the campus, otherwise it would take too much time to get there. 

 

People look fresh and like they’ve already had at least a few classes today, while Louis feels like he’s already dripping with sweat and he’s still half asleep. He gets to the practice halls, trying to remember what he has now. 

Well, it’s a no brainer, contemporary dance in some form. But where, that’s a whole other question. He’s peeking through windows next to the doors to see if there’s at least a few familiar faces and in no time, he sees few. 

He takes a deep breath, ready to be scolded. He opens the door. 

 

\- - 

 

“What did you have for breakfast?” Nico asks Harry, when they’re stretching for the class. 

“A smoothie, a piece of bread… What, you still haven’t figured out what works for you after summer holidays?” Harry raises his brows, brushing his growing hair back. 

“Nah, I feel like such an idiot sometimes for not being good at deciding what to eat for breakfast,” he shrugs, stretching the back of his left leg. 

“You truly are an idiot,” Harry confirms, with a dashing smile. Nico rolls his eyes, but smiles knowing that Harry is only joking.

 

Harry feels his muscles warming up, opening for the day, ready to take the day’s lessons. He spent the morning at the gym and had a bit of time to read, before he came to stretch. Some people were already there, filling their water bottles. Harry said hello to them all, before he started to think about the rest of the day. Practice, practice, practice, and in the evening, he’s going out to have dinner with a few friends. 

He also felt a bit more nervous than earlier this morning. Than in a few weeks actually. The teacher, Mr. Horan, is going to introduce their spring program to them and decide who are going to do the solos and duo performances. 

He has to get one of those solos. That would give him the opportunity to show his skills to some of the most prestigious people there are and he could get a place from one of the best dance houses in the world. This spring, when he’s going to graduate, he wants to have a plan what is going to happen next. He doesn’t want to be a trained dancer without a job. He only sees that one solo as his way of getting a place from somewhere where he can live his dream life as a dancer. 

 

“Good morning everyone,” Mr. Horan says, walking briskly into the room. He sets down a pile of papers and a folder and he looks like he hasn’t seen a stress-free day in a while. His brown hair is sticking out wildly and he has rolled the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows. He’s looking at all of the students, counting them, and frowns. 

Harry looks around himself, checks if everyone is there. To him it looks like everyone is already there, ready for whatever is to come, warmed up and waiting for instructions. They all know it’s an important day. But the teacher doesn’t look happy. He checks his wrist watch a couple of times, his phone too, and sighs. 

 

“Okay, let’s begin,” his voice sounds strained, tight with pressure. 

“Can you all gather around?” He signs a half circle in front of him and everyone sit on the floor. He pulls out a portable whiteboard and writes “program: spring” in red on the top. Harry straightens his back, waiting to see his name. Mr. Horan writes down two solos and two duo’s and then leaves to gather his papers from a chair he left them on. Everyone are silent, following the teacher with their eyes. 

“So, here’s the deal. We will work on the choreography together with every performer, but you’ll decide the songs we’ll use. I have decided who’ll dance the solo’s and who are working in pairs, everything else you have a say in. If you won’t see your name on this board, then it means you won’t be getting a part as one of the centre dancers. It won’t mean you won’t have a part at all, because we will work on five group choreographies, which will be performed between every solo and duo performance. Oh, and the dates…” He turns towards the whiteboard and writes “fourth of May” next to the title. 

“We have exactly five and a half months until the performance and we have to work hard.” Mr. Horan’s eyes drift from face to face, his eyes landing on Stan, who has his hand in the air. He looks unsure of himself, if he should have a question or not. 

Everyone turn to look at him and his hair, which is pulled back loosely into a small bun. Harry thinks it looks a little silly, why won’t he just cut his hair? It’d be easier. Then he remembers his own hair and how he should book an appointment to clean it up a bit, make it easier to take care of. He has had longer hair once, but cut it when he needed a change. 

 

“Yes?” 

“I was thinking… If you get a solo or a pair, will these people also perform in the group choreos?” 

“Good question, thank you Stan,” Horan smiles at him, then opens the folder in his hands. A paper falls out and he picks it up, almost dropping more, but catches them just on time. He clears his throat and tries to organise the papers into a neat pile. But the pile looks even more messy, some papers folded and some turned upside down in his hands. 

“Yes, I’ve made a list… The group choreos will start and end the show, with something small happening between every individual performance. Everyone will dance in at least one group choreo, but we’ll talk about them later, when I’ve assigned you into different groups and solos. Any other questions?” 

 

“Yes, I have one,” Pete, one of the most energetic dancers has his hand high in the air and a smile on his face. Mr. Horan lifts his brows, waiting for Pete to continue. 

“When are we going to start with the choreos? Today? Are we going to have separate meetings for planning?” 

“I will give you your parts and the order you’ll perform. Then we can talk about the choreos. You can listen to music, I also have some suggestions for the songs if you don’t come up with anything. Throw ideas around freely! Of course, we can start today too. We have until four, so roughly five hours. You can have extra meetings and rehearsals if you want and if you have time.” Mr. Horan talks in a monotonous voice, which doesn’t suit his usual way of self-expression. He’s usually enthusiastic and a bit out there, but now he’s all about the info and work. 

 

Harry sees how everyone are nodding in understanding, until his eyes are fixed back on the white board. The door clicks open, bringing in sounds from the hallway. He turns to look, seeing a mushed cloud of brown hair and a bag swinging on the boy’s shoulder. He can never remember the boy’s name, never really remember that he’s there at all.

“Louis! Come on in, we’ve been waiting for you!” Really? Harry didn’t wait for anyone else to come to this meeting. He just wants that solo. 

“I’m sorry I’m late…” Louis says in a hushed voice, sitting on the other end of the half circle, almost straight opposite from Harry. 

He’s looking at Horan, his hands going into his bag and taking his phone out. He squints towards the whiteboard, his hand going back into the bag. He rummages through it, trying to find something and not disturb Ike, who is asking about the venue. 

Louis’ eyes turn towards his bag, when he can’t find what he was looking for. Soon he gives up, covering his eyes with his hand. He massages his temples with his thumb and forefinger, frustrated. 

 

“I think we’re done with the questions?” Mr. Horan asks, his head flipping from side to side. 

“Okay, great, then! The parts!” He announces, turning towards the whiteboard. He picks up a red pen and starts to write the name of the first soloist. Harry leans from side to side, to see who Horan has picked up. He can hear a gasp and his eyes land on Lloyd, who is silently cheering. His friends are patting him on the back, while everyone else are already looking at the next names on the board. 

The teacher is blocking Harry’s view completely and even though he’s trying to find a spot where he could see at least something, there is none. Vin and Ezra give each other a high five, and Harry can only think that they got one of the duo parts. 

Mr. Horan reads through his papers for a moment and then goes back to writing. Apparently, he’s blocking more than Harry’s view, because most of the other dancers are also craning their necks and trying to see at least some clues. 

Harry hears someone whisper “congrats” into Louis’ ear in the silence of the room. So, he got the other solo. Harry feels his heart drop, his cheeks heating with disappointment. He tries to swallow down the tears, that are threatening to spill from his eyes. He needs to be strong. He can’t show his disappointment. He can still be seen in the group performances. He just needs to be extremely good. 

 

Wes sighs in relief a few people away from Harry, the guys next to him congratulating him. But who is his partner if Louis got the solo? Mr. Horan moves away from the whiteboard, giving Harry a full view of what he has decided. 

Solo: Lloyd

Duo: Vin, Ezra

Solo: Wes 

 

Harry’s brows scrunch together, his heart beating faster. 

Duo: Louis, Harry 

His name is up there. He’s the only Harry in this group. His eyes land on Louis, who swallows thickly. He gives Harry a small smile, brows raised a little. Harry is not dancing a solo. He’s dancing with the boy, who he never remembers. How the hell can he ever get anyone’s attention, when he doesn’t have any connection with this guy. 

“Congrats to everyone, who are dancing a bigger part! Let’s get to work!” Mr. Horan announces. Harry feels a hand on his shoulder, sees smiles on people’s faces when they’re congratulating him. But Harry feels like he’s made of stone. He’s dancing with someone and he already feels like his chances are slipping through his fingers.


	2. Unsteady

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's music time!   
> Phantogram / Answer  
> Phantogram / When I'm Small  
> The XX / Seasons Run   
> Santigold / Shove It   
> X Ambassadors / Unsteady

Harry arrives at the studio before anyone else, even the lights are not on when he opens the door. The only thing he can see in the empty room is the white board. Like a book with no covers, nothing to hide, just there to give information about what’s to come. 

He stares at it, in the half light. He sees his own name, everything around it is kind of blurry. His bag on his shoulder gets heavier the longer he stares at the name, like he’d be staring at himself through a mirror. His own reflection gives Harry rocks, which he has to put next to his clean clothes. And the more rocks the reflection gives to Harry, the dirtier and bigger they get. Just as a reminder what kind of a burden this is for him, how big of a disappointment he’s going through. 

 

He didn’t sleep well last night. That might also be the reason why he’s so early at the studio. He can’t shake the feeling of disconnection. He’s disconnected from the whole idea of dancing and to be honest, it freaks him out. Not like he’d be scared of the thought (or then yes, he’s scared), not like scary movie-freaked out.

More like he’d be looking at himself through someone else’s eyes, seeing how uncomfortable and not okay he is. He doesn’t feel like his feet belong to him. Even his own footsteps don’t feel like his own. Someone else is moving him, like a marionette, and he wants to break free. 

 

The names on the board feel like an insult. The thing he most wanted was snatched away from him, and it’s not even a senseless choice from Mr. Horan’s side. He did what he saw was best, what he has seen throughout the year so far. He did what was right. 

It still feels like a slap across Harry’s face though; knowing that he hasn’t been his best this autumn and worthy of a solo performance. He wanted that solo so badly, more than anyone of those solo dancers could’ve ever asked. 

What makes him annoyed? Yesterday. The training. The disconnection between him and the boy. He can’t deny it, the boy is talented, absolutely. But they’re so different. He’s younger, he’s a bit naïve, he’s a loner… The way his eyes shine every time Harry looked at him, made him almost sick to his stomach. Like the boy couldn’t contain his emotions, his joy to be working with someone. 

What the hell is he even on about? Harry sighs, and puts on the lights. Why is he so negative all of a sudden, so apprehensive about it all? So annoyed? The boy clearly wants to dance and give his all, why can’t Harry do it too? Who cares if the boy is enthusiastic, wants to work together to create something wonderful for their audience. 

Harry opens the blinds, letting early light come in, even though the sky is still mostly dark. Winter is coming, making his mornings a bit gloomier. He doesn’t want to let that bother him, he just has to get over himself, do what he has always loved the most. Dancing. 

 

It’s not long until he’s not alone in the room anymore. The first to arrive is Wes, who looks surprised to see Harry already there. He smiles a smug smile and greets with a quiet “good morning”. He sets his stuff next to the wall and starts to stretch and warm up, looking at the white board the whole time. He has his head high and even his hair looks like it has more volume than yesterday. 

Harry tries to focus on his own warm up routine, but his eyes drift to Wes, his sandy hair and muscular body. Harry feels a wave of loathing towards his complacent attitude, but then he thinks about how he would’ve reacted. He’d be the same if he would’ve gotten a solo. He would’ve walked in here, he would’ve smiled and he would’ve stared at his own name on that board, proud of himself and what he would’ve accomplished. He also knows that others would’ve been annoyed with him, with his attitude. Others would’ve been feeling the same loathing and jealousy Harry is feeling towards Wes. 

 

“Morning, Harry,” Nico takes Harry’s mind off Wes. He didn’t even see Nico, hear him coming into the room. 

“Morning,” Harry tries to smile, but his face is like a violin string; too tight to form a convincing, happy smile without a talented musician. Nico makes a face, his mouth twists and his eyes squint. 

“That bad?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry shakes his head, knowing very well what Nico means. 

“Everyone knew you were expecting a solo, and don’t even try to deny it,” he adds when Harry opens his mouth to protest. 

“Why can’t you be happy about what you have now?” Nico raises his brows and takes a sip from his water bottle, before he takes off his sweater and starts his own warm up routine. 

“I am!” Harry exclaims, too loud, too quick to answer, too defensive. 

“I am, I just don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know how me and that boy will work together. Even though he’s talented, I just don’t know why he makes me cringe.” 

 

Just then the boy walks in. His eyes scan the room and when they land on Harry, he gives a smile and a nod, eager for the day. He looks like he’s about to walk over, maybe hang around with Harry and Nico, but something in his eyes make Harry turn his gaze away, not even returning his greeting. 

Harry stares at the floor, waiting to see the boy’s feet approaching. But they don’t. He can’t even hear them, he can’t hear the boy. He dares to look up, already seeing Nico looking in the boy’s direction. He didn’t come to them, he went to the other side of the room, as far away from Harry and Nico as possible. He’s not looking at them, just starts doing stretches without making any contact with Harry anymore. 

For some reason Harry feels guilty. Like he would’ve done something wrong, hurt the boy. Maybe he should make some effort to at least try to like him, so there won’t be any unnecessary tension between them. It could be good even, if they like each other while they practice and perform the number eventually. Harry just needs to put a bit more effort into it. He looks at the boy: “a bit of effort, Harry”. 

 

“Good morning everyone!” Mr. Horan walks in, cutting Harry’s determination short. The boy looks up, his face hard and eyes towards the teacher.

“He looks pissed,” Nico places his hand on Harry’s shoulder, nodding discreetly towards the boy. They both look at him, like two people gossiping about someone. Telling each other rumours they’ve heard in the hallways, trying to figure out if they’re true or not. 

“What’s the deal with you two anyway? You didn’t seem too pleased with Horan’s decision yesterday, considering how you didn’t spend any time getting to know or dancing with him…” Nico looks at Harry with raised brows, but his eyes drift back to the lonely boy. 

“I don’t know… I just feel like there’s not much to work with or work towards,” Harry drops his voice to a whisper, when Mr. Horan starts to talk about the day’s plan and what they’d all need to do this week. 

“Work towards, what are you talking about? I know Louis is an ambitious guy, don’t underestimate him when you don’t even know him.” 

Has Harry been doing that, underestimating him? He gives the boy a look and catches him staring. He turns his eyes away when their gazes meet, but Harry can see the light pink shade on his cheeks. Maybe Harry needs to hear him out, have a real discussion. They don’t have to be the greatest friends to make it work, they just need to understand each other. 

 

“I’m just saying, give him a chance. You might actually inspire each other and we both know that that’ll make the talent seekers see you. You don’t have to have a solo to shine on that stage,” Nico smiles encouragingly. 

The room has fallen unusually quiet and make both Nico and Harry look at Mr. Horan, who is looking at them with a displeased frown. They straighten their backs and shut their mouths. 

 

“As I was saying, I wish all of you, who have a solo or a duo performance, would come up with some sort of an idea. The song, parts of choreography, the story you’d like to tell, anything at this point. Yesterday, some of you had amazing suggestions and everything has been taken into consideration. Some of you have a bit more work to do than others,” his eyes turn towards Harry, and only Harry, almost accusing him of something. 

“I do think we’ll have a wonderful spring performance, and for some of you it’ll also be the final of your studies. So, keep that in mind. There’s a lot on the line for all of us! Now, let’s get to work!” Mr. Horan claps his hands together and everyone melt into a steady rumble of voices, continuing from where they were left off yesterday and some suggesting new ideas after sleeping on it. 

 

Nico walks away towards his other mates, who he’ll perform one of the group choreographies with, and Harry is left alone, not knowing what to do exactly. He feels Nico’s eyes on him and when he spots Nico from the group, he jerks his head towards the boy, who is standing alone by one of the mirrors. 

He’s doing plies, his calf muscles contracting with every move. He’s looking at his form in the mirror, his other hand in the air and other holding onto a bar. Harry knows the boy can see him through the mirror, but his eyes are fixed on himself.

_Don’t be an idiot_ , Harry says to himself before he walks over to talk with the boy. His eyes don’t even look at Harry, only the shape of his arm and the bend of his legs. 

 

“Did you come up with any ideas we could maybe work on?” Harry asks casually, hearing his own snappiness clear in his tone. The boy glances at him through the mirror, but then he focuses back on his own warm up routine. 

“Not really, no. I didn’t really have any chances to even begin, because we didn’t really throw around any ideas yesterday,” he retorts with a cold voice. 

“Yeah, yesterday was just a bit weird… But I was thinking, maybe we could start really working today, right…” Harry’s voice rises, in an unsaid question, which makes the boy stand up and turn towards him. 

“You don’t remember my name?” He looks like Harry would be kidding him, like they could both start laughing in a matter of seconds. But Harry gets caught red handed. 

“What the hell?” The boy huffs and turns back towards the mirror, shaking his head. 

“Of course I remember it! We even shook hands yesterday!” 

“And it’s written there, on the white board…” the boy says, not amused. Harry tries to avoid looking towards it, but he can’t help it. There, next to his name, Louis. Just like Nico said earlier. Louis. 

 

When Harry turns to look at Louis again, he catches Louis’ bored looking eyes, before he keeps on practicing. 

“I’m sorry okay? It’s just…” 

“What, I’m not good enough for you?” 

“It’s not that, more like I never see you in any productions or extra curriculums. I never see you anywhere.” 

“But we’ve been in the same group for over three years now. You’ve seen me here, but you’ve never seen the effort to actually learn my name, like you’ve put the effort to learn everyone else’s names. How do you think this is going to work? You not remembering my name and not wanting to dance this duo?” 

“Don’t put words into my mouth, Louis, you know nothing about me!” 

“What? Words into your mouth? I’m asking serious questions and that’s what you get out of what I’m saying?” Louis turns back around, his anger clear on his face, in his tense shoulders, his voice that snarls at Harry. 

“Okay, let’s have a time out okay? Take a break and cool off,” Mr. Horan comes between the two, his hand on Harry’s chest, pushing him away from Louis. 

Harry rolls his eyes and turns away, not wasting any more of his time on that boy. It’s not going to work, see, proved! He needs to do something. He’d much rather dance in the group performances, than with Louis, because that little bastard can’t be worked with! 

He walks straight out of the studio and half runs the halls until he’s outside, catching air into his anger heavy lungs. How can he go back in there, when even talking to that boy is so hard? Dancing is going to be even harder, that’s for sure. 

 

“Harry?” He hears a familiar voice approaching. He’s sitting on the steps leading into the building and is met with friendly eyes, when Liam, his flatmate, sits next to him. Liam dances hip hop in another group and he was Harry’s first friend after coming to New York almost four years ago. Liam also started then and it has been like a mutual journey. 

They watch people passing by, minding their own business, seeming like they’re in a rush all the time. 

“Why aren’t you practicing?” Liam asks, turning towards Harry. 

“Aren’t you in a hurry?” Harry asks back. Liam only smiles and turns back towards the street. 

“Touché,” he only responds, but doesn’t make any move to leave. 

 

“It’s just not working out with the guy I’m supposed to dance the duo with,” Harry sighs exasperatedly and hides his face in his hands. He feels like a total failure. 

“The same guy you complained about yesterday too?” 

“Yeah, him,” Harry looks up, and at Liam, who looks like he’s trying to come up with a solution. But then gives up, what can he do? Nothing. 

 

“What’s his name? Maybe I know him, could give you some advice?” 

“Louis something…” 

“Louis!? He’s a great guy! Why can’t you get along with him?” A smile spreads on Liam’s face and Harry stares at him, wishing he could feel as happy and hopeful as Liam looks. 

“You know him?” 

“Yeah, we have lunch sometimes, because he has scheduled some of his classes differently from some other contemporary dancers, I guess. And I see him out sometimes, at clubs and shit. We talk and have a laugh, but I don’t know him that well though. I’ve just always thought that he’s really nice and would be a dream to work with, because he’s so easy to get along with.” 

 

Harry tries to put this person Liam is talking about and the person Harry knows together. But he can’t. It sounds nothing like the Louis Harry knows. Mostly because Louis seems like a person, who doesn’t have any friends or people he’d hang out with. 

“I think you’ve mistaken this Louis with someone else,” Harry shakes his head, ready to give up. What the hell can he do anymore, there’s no more choices, chances, or even opportunities. 

“I’m pretty sure we talk about the same guy. Because he knows you, when I’ve mentioned that I live with you,” Liam smiles even more, and it makes Harry even more annoyed with the whole situation. 

“You’ve talked about me?” 

“I’ve just mentioned you, and he said that you dance in the same group, nothing more.” 

Okay, so it’s the same Louis. 

 

”So, what’s the problem? You don’t get along with him?” 

What is the problem, Harry thinks. He could scream out in frustration and he wouldn’t be able to form any words. Because the problem isn’t actually Louis, but it’s him. He’s creating the problem for himself, making it worse the more he thinks about it. And he’s trying to blame Louis for his own problems, when in fact he can only blame himself. 

“I don’t get along with him, because I’m an asshole. I wanted that solo, and I didn’t get it, and now I’m trying to put it all on Louis. And he got a bit angry at me because I can’t remember his name, well didn’t until 15 minutes ago…” 

“You didn’t remember his name? Even though you’ve been dancing in the same group for, what, almost the whole time you’ve studied here? No wonder he got angry,” Liam cringes and that’s it. If Louis would’ve forgotten Harry’s name, he’d be angry too. And now Harry is making it all about himself. 

 

“Get to know him, Harry, it’s not that hard to actually talk to another person and find out what they’re like,” Liam’s voice is almost as annoyed as Harry’s. 

“Yeah, you’re right…” 

“You can be such an asshole sometimes, especially after Deon,” Liam rolls his eyes. 

“Don’t mention him ever again, okay?” Harry warns. Even hearing that name hurts like hell. Makes him squirm uncomfortably. Makes him doubt everything and everyone. 

“Okay, sorry,” Liam lifts his hands in the air in surrender. He stands up and helps Harry up too. They walk slowly inside, hearing the clash of muted music. 

 

“You actually didn’t say why you’re here so late? Weren’t you supposed to be here two hours ago or something?” Harry even remembers Liam talking about it last night, how he needs to get up early and be ready for whatever they’re doing today. 

“My first classes got cancelled and now I’m here just to hear what we’re doing with the spring program. It’s not a big deal.” 

Hearing Liam talk somehow soothes Harry’s agitated nerves. The way the words tumble out of his mouth in a steady stream, low and raspy, reminds Harry of something familiar. If he wouldn’t have met Liam outside, he doesn’t know how he could’ve walked back inside. 

 

“And Harry, if I don’t get a solo or a duo and I start to complain like you did the whole of last evening, then punch me in the face and I’ll stop, okay?” He asks, carefree, knowing that it’ll piss Harry off. Harry slaps his arm, hard, his palm stinging. 

“Ouch!” 

“Just a taste of what to come if I actually have to punch you,” Harry smiles. He starts to walk away, towards the studio. 

“Asshole!” Liam yells after him, laughter lacing the word.

“That’s what they say!” Harry waves his hand in the air, but doesn’t turn towards Liam. 

 

Harry shakes his arms, tries to get his tense shoulders to relax and the last bits of annoyance out through his fingertips. He can hear people talking in the studio, music faintly playing. The people inside erupt into a choir of exited whoa’s and clapping. Harry looks in through the narrow window next to the door, only to see everyone gathered into a circle around the room. 

Everyone else, except Louis, who is smiling in the middle. He’s out of breath, his chest shiny with a light sheen of sweat. He’s talking with Mr. Horan, who’s nodding feverishly. He then gives Louis the space and moves to sit with the other students. 

Everyone is watching Louis. How he nods his head to the music, until his nodding bursts into a strong flow of moves and emotion. Harry can’t make himself open the door, disrupt the moment of pure awe the students and Mr. Horan are feeling. 

He doesn’t want to interrupt himself, when he can see the perfection unfolding in front of himself on the other side of the glass. Louis makes it look so easy, almost like he’d glide through the room and still be aware of every corner and inch of wall surrounding him. 

 

Louis stops, and people clap. Harry feels like he should clap too, but that wouldn’t make any sense, would it? He’s not even in the room! A couple ballet dancers talk and laugh and their voices echo unpleasantly in the corridor. Harry can hear a new song playing in the studio, but his focus is on the dancers now walking past him. 

They don’t say anything to each other, just stare and make Harry sense how he’s not wanted out here at this moment. They glare at each other, and Harry is like a wild animal cornered into a small space, before he’s slaughtered for someone else’s amusement. Harry feels it and when the dancers have gone past him, they also take the feeling with them. Harry follows them with his eyes and hears them start to talk again, like Harry wouldn’t have even been there. 

The moment has passed though. Harry can hear music and people talking in the studio, but the ballet dancers have pulled Harry from his thoughts. Almost like they would’ve taken Harry’s memory with them. He had a thought, an idea, and it sparked to life only from seeing Louis dance, do those few moves that were improvised, without any mask or pretention. But it’s gone now, so far away already that Harry can’t even remember if he had any useful ideas. 

 

He knows he can’t stay out here in the hallway for the rest of the day. It has never been so hard for him to go into the studio and dance, do the thing that he wants! Now? It seems like he wants to avoid even the thought of dancing. He’s nervous, doubting his own skills and place in the group. He has always been confident, but he knows he’s lacking something. 

Everything’s so perfect, when he dances, but he needs a bit of imperfection. A quirk that would make him special, stand out from the others. He needs a quality, that would make him better than anyone else. That’s also the reason why he didn’t get a solo. 

There’s no way he’d be able to perform a solo, when he’s only performing. He’s not actually living in the performance. It’s just a series of steps, jumps, feelings, moves. But not a spectacle that would make people talk or feel something extraordinary. 

 

He had that at some point. A few years ago, he still felt everything in his bones, in the deepest corners of his mind and awareness. He had a quality, that made him get into Juilliard in the first place. Maybe it was innocence, hope and dreams, pure joy. 

Then everything shifted. Dancing wasn’t vibrant colours and sounds anymore. It was just a task, he was doing. Something he _had_ to do. Even though he enjoys it, maybe more than he should, it became an obsession.

Every little mistake and piece of imperfection became unacceptable, and he fixed them, until there was nothing to be fixed. Everything was planned; every feeling was fabricated, every misstep was part of a strategy, every glance towards someone was really a blind spot. Nothing was real. 

 

Louis. Harry can see himself in Louis. In his steps and emotions that he lets out with his performance in front of their group. But there’s something Harry can’t quite understand. Some boundary, that makes Louis stop himself. An invisible person dancing next to him, saying what is allowed and what is not. Telling him what emotion he can let through. What is acceptable in this environment. 

Something is holding Louis back. His technique is perfect, but he has a quirk that is actually holding him back. While Louis dances, Harry’s eyes watch the other’s faces and sees Mr. Horan staring at Harry. He smiles, and then looks at Louis, who is pushing himself up in the air, his feet high off the ground. Like he’s flying.

 

Louis has a quirk, but he’s not letting himself be who he is. Harry doesn’t let that quirk show anymore, and everything’s too perfect. Is this supposed to be a psychological game or test from Mr. Horan’s side? Is he testing Harry to see if he’s still a good dancer? Or if he can dance with someone, work with someone other than only himself? it’s almost like an explosion of thoughts in Harry’s head. The biggest of those thoughts is understanding why Harry didn’t get a solo. Why he’s dancing with the boy he doesn’t know at all. 

They both have something that the other could make use of. They could learn something from each other, and it sure could create something amazing. Or then it could blow up in their hands and create the biggest mistake a spring performance has ever seen. Those two options aren’t even the only options. It seems like there’s endless possibilities of what could happen when Harry will work with Louis. And to be honest, that terrifies Harry. 

 

He opens the door, and he feels people looking at him. He keeps his eyes cast towards the floor. He closes the door behind him and sits next to Vin and Ezra, who have a notebook in front of them. They’re planning their own duo performance, but also a couple of the group performances. 

Louis walks in a circle, listening to Mr. Horan talk about how they could come up with a storyline to connect every performance together. People are throwing out ideas, what the subject could be, and many of those ideas include a relationship gone wrong. 

Why does it always have to be about a romantic relationship? Why can’t it be about a political issue or a story about one person? A struggle or a success, something else other than love. Everyone just like to think that it’s the only possibility. And frankly, Harry doesn’t have the strength to fight anymore. He has fought enough for one day. He has felt enough for one day. Now he just wants to get on with this day, get rid of it, be in his own room and listen to quietness for a moment. 

The others agree on the relationship gone wrong storyline. What a lazy solution. What a great mood killer. What a way to get Harry even more interested in performing. Though, he does have his fair share of relationships gone wrong, he’d still like to keep them separate from this. From the one thing he likes. 

He doesn’t want to remember the broken hearts and broken fantasies, that once clouded his mind. So, he puts on a mask, a mask that says it’s okay. And the subject is fine in the end, he just doesn’t want to dig too deep when he’s coming up with choreography. It’s as simple as that. 

 

Louis takes a small towel from his bag and wipes his face. He picks up his phone, looking at something, when Harry gathers the courage to do something. Everyone is already back in business, creating and trying out different things. There’s laughter and light debating, that disappears as quickly as it started. There’s steps and breathing all around Harry, like they’d be his heart beat, not the pounding sound inside his ribs. 

Harry stops in front of Louis, his hands behind his back, his eyes wide and expecting. Louis doesn’t look at him though, doesn’t even acknowledge him being there. He just reads something on his phone, blind for everything else happening in the studio. 

 

“Louis?” Harry feels like his voice is too quiet, but Louis does hear it, makes him look up to see that he’s not alone. He only raises his brows, waiting for Harry to say something. Harry knows what that something is. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t put any effort into this project, and that I forgot your name,” he begins. He must’ve said something right, because Louis drops his phone back into his back and now turns all of his attention to Harry. 

“I was thinking, if we could go somewhere, maybe get to know each other a bit before we start to plan the choreography?” 

“Why?” Louis asks, hard, his voice cold. Harry didn’t expect to hear any questions at this point. 

“Why? Well, maybe it’ll be helpful, when we know each other a bit more?” Louis tilts his head, only a little, but still tilts it. 

“Okay, maybe downstairs into the cafeteria?” 

“Sounds good,” Harry tries a smile, but Louis already turns away and makes his way out the door, his towel still around his neck. He doesn’t stay to wait for Harry either, Harry has to run after him, like a puppy following its owner. 

Louis doesn’t get anything from the café, just picks a table and sits down. Harry sits opposite from him, awkward chemistry sparkling in the air. 

 

“So, where are you from?” Harry starts, knowing that this is not going to end well. Sitting here is like he’s on a bad blind date with Louis, who is not his type at all. He’s trying to think positively, but his patience is running thin. Louis looks bored, ready to leave any second. 

“Originally from Manchester, but we moved to London when I was still a kid,” he answers, his eyes never leaving Harry’s. His stare is ruthless, trying to dive deep into Harry’s mind, find his weak spots. 

 

“You?” He asks, when Harry doesn’t say anything. It takes Harry a moment to even realise that Louis asked something. Harry opens his mouth and clears his throat, almost saying “what”, even though he heard Louis’ question loud and clear. 

“London,” he only manages. Louis nods, and slumps against his chair. 

 

“What are we even doing?” He sighs, looks at Harry, but then rolls his eyes and finds something else to stare at. 

“I can see you don’t want to do this duo thing with me, and honestly, it doesn’t make me that eager to work with you either. I have things going on in my own life too, which I need to focus on and this is just one more thing on top of that.” Louis shakes his head and sounds tired as hell. 

 

So many things hang on this thing, on this one dance, that he can’t just give up. And he knows he has been a total shit towards Louis and he knows that he hasn’t been discreet hiding it. But after hearing from many people how he should get to know Louis and give him a chance, Louis’ answer doesn’t exactly warm his heart. Especially when Harry thinks he actually realised the reason why him and Louis got paired up for this. 

“Listen to me, I have many things going on too and I know I haven’t made any effort… But I’m not going to let this go either.” Harry leans in and gets Louis’ attention. 

“Okay, what if we go back out there, and ask Niall to change it? You can dance with someone else, I’m happy to only dance the group choreos.” 

“Niall, you know him?” 

“I actually do, he’s one of my flat mates,” Louis raises his brows lazily, but gives up when Harry looks at him dumbfounded. 

“He’s your age, if you haven’t known. He’s our teacher only because of his extra curriculum club or something. If he doesn’t get this right this year, he’s going to get the boot from the school board and be just one of the dancers, if he’s let to stay here.” 

 

Harry can only stare. The loner he thought Louis is has now been crushed and Harry has to create a new image. 

“I didn’t know,” Harry feels dumb. But how could he know something like that, he never sees Mr. Horan outside the training environment. Hearing something like this from Louis makes him feel like the loner instead, who doesn’t go out anymore, at least not that often as he used to. 

 

“You really want to give up the duo?” Harry asks Louis, who stares at him blankly. 

“Yeah, if it means that I’ll have time for a life,” he stands up already, but this time Harry is on his feet before Louis can leave. 

“Why are you acting like that, rudely? It seemed like yesterday you were almost eager to do this duo choreo?” 

“Because I’m tired and I have to practice for an entrance exam, which I found out has been moved to next week, even though it was supposed to be two weeks from now.” 

“Entrance exam?” 

“Yeah, I want to transfer schools and go back to London.” 

“Why?” Louis suddenly stops on his tracks and looks at Harry with his brows pulled together. 

“Why do people move back to the place where they feel at home?” Harry hasn’t noticed how small Louis actually is. Well, not small, but smaller compared to him. He’s a bit shorter, his body is graceful, but muscular. When Louis starts walking again, Harry realises he can’t hear Louis’ steps against the floor. He’s just floating forward. 

Harry leaves the subject and follows Louis back into the studio, where Mr. Horan is watching Vin and Ezra dance. There’s only a few other pairs of eyes watching them, others deep in their own choreographies. 

 

“Horan,” Louis calls, leading him and Harry to the teacher. 

“We realised that we don’t get along. We thought you could maybe assign someone else to dance with Harry, while I’ll dance in the group.” Louis isn’t afraid to say the truth or gloss over it. Mr. Horan looks at Louis, and then at Harry, not saying a word. His eyes narrow and he smiles. 

“No,” he simply says, turning his focus back on Ezra and Vin. 

“No?” Louis repeats. He pulls the towel off his shoulders and twists it in his hands. Mr. Horan turns back to them and then starts to walk towards the door and out. Harry feels like he’s just following people, letting others bounce him around. He turns towards them both, folding his arms in front of his chest. 

“No, I’m not going to let you two give up that easily. I know you don’t get along that well, I think everyone has seen that in there.” He nods his head towards the studio and he’s completely right. Even Harry has seen how others see it. 

“But I’m not going to change everything just because you think you won’t be able to work. This is sometimes about compromises and you need to just find a way to work together. You’re both talented, let me see that. Let me see what you can come up with. If nothing good comes out of it, then I’ll give the duo performance to someone else. There’s many who want that, because it’s an opportunity, not a jail sentence. But that will mean both of you will lose the duo.” Niall pats them both on the arm, and then he’s gone. Louis and Harry are both staring at the closing door, not knowing what they should exactly do right now. 

 

“Okay, what now?” Louis asks grimly, and lets out a breath that could hold three individual inhales and exhales. 

“I don’t want to go back in there,” Harry thinks, but realises he said it out loud, when Louis chuckles. 

“Let’s not then,” he leans against the wall and closes his eyes. 

“How long are you staying here?” 

“Here, at the studio?” 

“Yeah, you said something about the other practice you have… How long are you going to stay here so I can find you later?” 

“I don’t know, Harry, maybe until ten or something. Why?” Louis still doesn’t open his eyes, just breathes calmly. 

“I think I need a breather. Maybe we both do, at least from this duo thing. If I come back at six, would I still find you here?” Harry hopes Louis will say yes, almost pleads him silently to say yes. He needs to find perspective, something else other than despair from this situation. 

“Okay, yeah, let’s do that. I’m not sure which studio I’ll be in yet, I just need to find one that is empty at the time. But I’ll be here,” Louis finally opens his eyes and looks at Harry emotionlessly. Harry nods and presses his lips together into a thin line. 

This time he’s the one to lead them back into the studio, and finds his things on the floor next to the mirrored wall. He’s surprised to find Louis packing his things too, but he doesn’t really care what he’ll do. 

 

“Both of us has to come up with at least something, if that’s fine with you?” Louis questions, when they walk out the door for the tenth time it seems. 

“Yeah, see you later.” 

Harry leaves Louis standing in the corridor, or then Louis left as soon as he could, too. Harry has to remind himself that he can’t hear Louis’ footsteps. It doesn’t matter now though, he just has to get out and find a place to think. 

 

His feet lead him into Central Park. The cool air forces him to wear a jacket, even though he feels his blood pumping hot under his skin. He finds a bench and sits down. He listens to the faint sounds of traffic and people talking. How normal life unfolds right in front of him, while he feels like he’s stuck in a still life. 

He digs out his phone and picks a random playlist. Some songs he recognises, some he doesn’t. Some are too fast, some are too slow. Some too loud, some too quiet. Some too joyful and hopeful, when he’s supposed to find a song that would portray a ruined relationship. That’s what he likes to call it, ruined, rather than wrong. Nothing is wrong, relationships can turn good or bad. 

 

He doesn’t know how long he sits on the bench, but he knows his time is up when he gets hungry. He doesn’t turn off the music, only turns it louder to hear it better in the buzzling of the streets. The musical cloud turns into a musical boredom soon after he has eaten though, because nothing catches his attention. It’s just notes and words, no emotion, like his performing in the studio. 

He checks the time, only four. He still has a couple of hours, before he’s supposed to meet Louis and present him with an idea. What a great day he’s had so far. and It doesn’t seem to turn any better. He’s just not capable of doing this. It’s good he doesn’t have that solo, he possibly wouldn’t be able to do that either. He’d over achieve it or he’d have a nervous breakdown. Neither of those options seem appealing. 

He laughs at himself for thinking that maybe some of the choreography will come to him in a dream. But when his mind keeps screaming emptiness, it seems like the only option. He takes the subway and goes home, to East Village. He stumbles into his room and falls on his bed, forgetting he still has music playing in his ears. How can he even forget that, when a female voice is singing about issues? How fitting. As soon as he closes his eyes, though, he falls asleep. 

 

It’s almost like a nightmare. But this time it’s one of those good kinds of scares, one of those that wake you up before something horrible happens. Almost like he would’ve been falling from the highest point this city has, only to realise that what he’s listening to is the song they need. Him and Louis. It’s _The Song_. 

Before it ends, he opens the app and puts the song on repeat. He saves it into a couple of playlists, just to make sure he’ll find it somewhere. Then he buys it and grades it with five stars. He’s captivated by the song, his heart breaking with every beat. Just the perfect song for the program. 

Then he realises to check the time, already seven! He scrambles his stuff from the floor and runs to put on his shoes. Liam isn’t there, because none of the lights are on. He’s out the door in a minute and already running towards the subway, excited to make Louis listen to the song. He might not have any parts of the choreography, but he has something. He has _The Song_ , and it makes him run even faster. 

By the time he’s at the station, he remembers the chorus. By the time he’s at Lincoln Centre, ready to run through the doors to Juilliard, he remembers most of the verses with the chorus. Some words are still just a blur to him, but the main message has seeped into his nervous system and made home there. 

 

Now, Louis, where is he? Harry starts his search from the top floors and checks in through every window next to the door. His heart is beating rapidly, almost like this’d be part of the whole practice process. 

He comes down to the first floor and finds a dark room. Except it’s not completely dark, there’s some lights on, just a few to show Louis dancing. Harry can’t hear any music, but he can feel a light beat of a bass when he leans his hand against the door. 

Louis looks frustrated, tired in a stretched out way. He looks like he has been practicing for too long, without any breaks. He does the same steps over and over again, doing them the same way every time. He gives up and sits on the floor, his back hunched and his face towards the ceiling. Harry takes off his headphones and misses the song he was listening to. 

 

“Sorry, I’m late, I know,” Harry opens the door without a knock and surprises Louis. Harry expects him to say something, but is met with silence from Louis’ part. There is music playing, but not loudly. Just enough for the studio to echo softly. 

“I didn’t even know it’s already six,” Louis shakes his head, wiping his arm against his forehead. 

“It’s actually already seven,” Harry cringes, knowing how bad that actually sounds. 

“You’re here now. Did you come up with anything?” Louis asks, and stands up. His shirt is wet from his sweat and now, when he’s on his feet, he looks even more tired than Harry actually thought. 

“I was sleeping, and I woke up to this song and I think it could work for the performance.” It has to work, there’s no other option. If Louis says no, Harry will punch him in the face. 

“Let’s hear it then.” 

 

Louis waits for Harry to sync his phone with the sound system and put on the song. When the first melodies fill the room, Harry is already silently singing along. He puts the volume a little louder, just so he can finally feel it shaking under his feet, vibrating in his ears like he’d hear it for the first time. He doesn’t dare to look at Louis, what shines through his face, what he’s doing. Until there’s a light thud against the floor. Did he pass out? 

Harry sees Louis through the mirror, dancing, floating through the stuffy air. He has a pained look on his face, that switches into a dashing smile, when his feet touch the floor again. He closes his eyes and just dances, not caring that Harry is watching him through the mirror, studying his every move and muscle. 

His steps don’t stop even when the song ends and there’s a short pause before it starts again. He just dances, like it’d be something that keeps him alive. His air, his food, his sleep. The longer Harry watches him, the more he notices how Louis’ tiredness turns into inspiration. And that inspiration turns into movement, that shakes Harry’s nerves. 

He’d like to join Louis. He’d want to feel the song the same way Louis is feeling it. He’d want to break free from his form, from gravity that keeps him in place. 

 

But there are boundaries. He has danced with others before, learnt what are the ways to dance with someone and make it look graceful. This is not dancing in a club when you’ve had eight shots and a beer. No, this is something else. 

Harry feels like every rule he had about dancing with someone have just been thrown out the window. He can feel everything Louis is feeling; the pain they’re supposed to show towards each other. This is not a love song, not a sweet story about coming together. This is about breaking apart, losing the other half. This, what he sees in front of him, is the thing that has kept Harry dancing. 

His heart flutters heavily in his chest, and his eyes feel watery. His hands shake slightly, and his breathing shivers. 

This boy. He was supposed to be unknown, a person who doesn’t let himself be part of the song. But he’s more. He might not show it all the time, especially in front of bigger crowds, Harry thinks. When he’s alone, here with Harry, he shows so much more. And it breaks Harry apart. Makes him feel his own heartbreak from long ago. He doesn’t want to think about it, about the person behind it, but he feels it all. So much that he can’t stand it anymore. 

 

He stops the song just as Louis is about to jump in the air for the fifteenth time. When there’s no music, a spell breaks. Louis stops, his eyes wide, his breathing ragged, and all of his senses finding Harry standing in a corner. 

“Sorry,” Louis says slowly, quietly, and Harry’s not sure what he’s apologising for. For dancing, for forgetting that he’s not alone, for breaking Harry’s heart unintentionally. It can’t be the last one though. He can’t read Harry’s mind, know what Harry is feeling. 

“It’s fine,” Harry presses his lips together and smiles a tight smile, not fooling anyone with it. Louis stands straight, and takes a step forward. But then stops himself. He sees something in Harry, something that Harry doesn’t want to share. Harry just doesn’t know what that is. 

 

“You’re a great dancer,” Harry wants to break the silence. And he feels like a high schooler for breaking it this way. Louis smiles and bows his head down. Harry can distinguish pink lightly spreading on his cheeks, but when Louis looks back up, he can’t see it there anymore. Just the sweat, that’s drying on his skin. 

“Then it’s good there’s two of us,” he only replies and his smile breaks the ice. It eases Harry, relaxes him, enough so that he smiles back. 

“Maybe we could talk about the choreo now, if you’d like? I’m in no rush and I feel like this could be something good.” Louis’ face is expressive, when he talks. His voice is nice, smooth, smoky, if that’s even a way of describing someone’s voice, Harry wonders. 

He can hear a cigarette or two in Louis’ voice. He can imagine Louis smoking, while his eyes compete with the flicker of the burning cigarette. Even though he seems so naïve, so much younger, Harry can actually see that he was wrong. He was wrong about everything. 

He’s not that much younger, he’s not a loner (as people have been pointing out to him) and even though he might seem naïve to some, he actually only has a positive attitude, that can be seen as naivety. Harry was so wrong. And he feels so stupid. And even a bigger asshole than he usually is, because he judged Louis too soon. 

 

“Yeah, I’m fine with that,” Harry answers, takes off his shoes and jacket and lets himself relax in the dim studio. 

“Can we listen to the song while we plan?” 

“Uhh, sure,” Harry shrugs, even though now the song hurts more than he’d like. He can only see Louis dancing, his flow of rhythm and emotion. He tries to push the image back, but then he’s met with Louis in front of him. His eyes burn with ocean blue and the image in Harry’s mind of Louis dancing only gets stronger. 

Louis sits on the floor with a notebook and a pen and Harry sits opposite from him, his eyes on Louis’ delicate hands. He scribbles something in a messy handwriting, and then looks up with questioning eyes. 

 

And it starts. The rumble of words coming from Harry’s mouth. He describes a love story breaking apart, a push and a pull, hope and desperation, happiness and sorrow. Louis writes as fast as he can, asking more when he needs to. 

Harry explains in detail, how he hears the song. When Harry has come to an end, Louis starts, his hands flying in the air when he describes the way they could dance the story out. He stands up once in a while, actually running across the floor, showing what he’s after. The song plays again and again, hurting and healing at the same time. Harry’s heart doesn’t stop pounding, even when he’s just watching and listening what Louis has to say. 

Louis wants Harry to stand up and start putting something together, making progress with the performance even though Harry feels like he’s a piece of wood standing in the studio with a professional. He knows he hasn’t warmed up, but he hopes it won’t matter now. Louis shows him and Harry acts. They do the same moves together, Harry throwing in ideas and Louis beaming when he hears Harry speak. 

 

“Should we try put some parts together?” Louis asks, out of breath. 

“Yeah, let’s do that,” Harry tries to mimic his excitement, but feels more nervous than he maybe should. He remembers the rules, the ones he has had for everyone. 

But this is Louis, this is supposed to be intimate. He thinks about it too long, if he should say something or not, because the song starts from the beginning, louder this time. Louis walks slowly, and comes to stand in front of Harry, his chest almost brushing against Harry’s. 

His enthusiasm has changed into something else, almost into some passionate yearning, and it makes Harry lose his breath. He feels paralysed. Harry is supposed to take Louis’ hands into his, but the song just keeps on playing and he can’t do anything. 

 

“Harry?” Louis raises his brows, when a good minute has passed. 

“I’m sorry.” Harry shakes his head and takes a step backwards. He’s glad Louis doesn’t follow him. Maybe it’s his own personal space he’s worried about, not Louis’. 

“If you don’t remember…”

“No, it’s not that!” Harry defends himself too loudly, making Louis even more confused. 

“I was just thinking what’s okay?” 

“Okay, in what way?” 

“When I have to touch you?” Harry feels embarrassed, almost like this wouldn’t be about dancing at all anymore. Like he’d be preparing Louis for undressing and throwing him in his bed. Harry shakes that thought out of his mind right away or this will be even more embarrassing. 

 

“You don’t know how to touch me while we dance? Have you ever danced with a partner?” Louis looks at Harry like he would’ve grown a horn on his forehead. 

“Of course I have! Of course…” 

“We’ll figure it out if something doesn’t feel right, but I’m sure you can take my hand,” Louis starts to laugh and goes to start the song again. Harry takes his spot and waits for Louis to run back. 

 

This time he doesn’t shy away. He takes Louis’ hand into his, almost too tight, and his eyes are glued to Louis’. He loses all the control he had earlier and just lets it go, lets the song play him, rather than him play the song. 

Even when Louis jumps into his arms, he’s not careful. He grabs Louis carefully, tightly, not letting go, like the voice in the song sings. 

 

Louis is laying on the floor, out of breath, but laughing. Harry lays next to him, not knowing why Louis is laughing, but Harry laughs with him. 

“Did you know you lip sync at the same time you dance?” Louis asks when he has calmed himself down. 

“No, I don’t do that!” Harry feels like Louis is just playing him, but in a way, it does make sense. He already knows the lyrics, and he usually annoys Liam by singing. Though, that happens only when Harry doesn’t realise he’s singing out loud. 

His face twists half in embarrassment, half in offence, but he doesn’t take it seriously. Does it matter anyway? They have a choreography that seems too real and too good to be true. He never thought they could come up with one. 

“Yeah, you do, with dramatic facial expressions,” Louis turns to his side to face Harry and sings along to the music that is still playing in the stereos and lip syncs so horribly, that Harry can’t help it. He pushes Louis off and to his back, until they’re both lying on the floor again, laughing. 

“I’m just doing what you’re doing. Imagine jumping into someone’s arms when they’re twisting their face like they might actually have a heart attack and fall on their knees as soon as you’re up in the air,” Louis says between chuckles, but then he quiets down. Harry’s only smiling anymore, until his face goes blank. 

 

“I knew you wanted that solo,” Louis says carefully, like he’s trying to be sensitive and not hurt Harry’s feelings. Harry doesn’t know what to say back to him. He looks at Louis from the corner of his eye and finds Louis staring at the ceiling. Harry’s eyes drift up too, not knowing what Louis sees, but it seems calming in a way. To only see an even colour and shadows from the lights. 

“I know why I didn’t get a solo though… I’m not that good in our group, there’s much stronger dancers…” Harry wonders out loud. The only stronger dancer he can think of is lying right next to him. 

“What are you talking about? I think you’re one of the best in the group and I think you should’ve gotten one. Now you’re just stuck with me,” Louis’ voice rises and lowers, almost like he’d consciously calm himself. 

“I’m not stuck with you, no. You’re good,” Harry doesn’t want to hide the compliment, even though it’s not much. 

“Thanks,” Louis’ hushed voice is like a stroke of a bird’s wing. 

 

“I am happy to dance with you though,” Louis says after a while, after picking his words carefully.

“Though you were kind of an asshole yesterday, and today too,” Louis chuckles. 

“You’re not holding back,” Harry rolls his eyes, but can’t hold in a smile. 

“I like to be honest, rather than keep things from people,” Louis says, and makes Harry turn his eyes towards the boy next to him. He kind of gets it now. Why his eyes shine, why he seems like he sometimes can’t contain his joy. He’s just being honest. He doesn’t deal with things like Harry does; hide away when something bothers him or makes him uncomfortable. 

“I’m said to be the asshole, so be prepared,” Harry answers Louis, trying to be honest even though it sounds more like a joke. 

“You don’t seem like an asshole though, not really. I think you’re sensitive, but turn into an asshole if someone gets too close,” Louis closes his mouth, not even breathing after that. 

“Okay, mister psychologist,” Harry chuckles, not wanting to continue this conversation. He knew it. Louis can see through him. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is something that freaks Harry out in a horror movie way. 

Louis doesn’t say anything to that, neither does Harry. He wonders if this was it. They dance and then they’re quiet. But then he hears Louis take a breath through his mouth, like he’s preparing himself for a question that wants to get out in the open. 

 

“Who are you thinking when we’re dancing this?” Louis asks, his voice quivering. This is the boy Harry knew. The one, who is a bit shy and a bit young to talk about real problems with a steady voice. 

“Someone…” Harry starts, but his voice shakes even worse than Louis’ does. He swallows and starts again. 

“Someone who I was with a few of years back.” 

“It didn’t end well?” Louis presses on, gently, but still wanting to know. 

“We’re not together anymore, so yeah, it didn’t end well.” Harry sees Deon’s face in his mind, opening a jar of worms. But he closes it, not wanting to go there. He might think about their breakup when he’s dancing this choreography, but he’s not going to let it take him under. 

 

“You, who are you thinking about?” Harry asks, desperate to change the subject. 

“My family, how I haven’t seen them in too long,” he gets what Harry wants, and does just that. 

“Why don’t you think about someone who you’ve been in love with?” Harry pulls his brows together, already coming up with an answer Louis might give. He hasn’t had a partner before. He’s a virgin, who is too shy to actually be with someone. 

“Because I haven’t been in love. I’ve had many boyfriends, maybe even too many in a too short period of time… But I’ve never loved any of them,” he explains casually. So, Harry was wrong again. Why does he keep coming up with these lies that try to paint Louis in some inexperienced way, come to his dancing or his personal life? Especially when Harry knows maybe 0.25% of what Louis is actually like. He doesn’t know what to say to his answer. If he should ask more, or if he should just drop it. 

 

“You said you live with Niall?” He decides to change the subject again. 

“Yeah, and with another guy who plays saxophone. And I guess I could call Niall’s girlfriend also one of my flatmates, ‘cause she spends so much time at the apartment.” He lets out a long breath, then lifts his hands in the air, defending himself even before Harry has a chance to ask more. 

“I don’t mean it in a negative way though, Iris is lovely! Sometimes she just reminds me of home a bit,” Louis says a little quieter, like he’d weigh all his words carefully. His hands come down and his whole body relaxes. 

“She’s from London?” 

“No, she’s not, but she can go back home any time she wants. And knowing that she has some other place to go to just reminds me of a place where I could go too.” 

Harry doesn’t dare to look at Louis. Not when he’s somewhere far away, even though he’s right next to Harry. Still, his thoughts have taken him somewhere, where Harry doesn’t know where to look for him. He doesn’t know if he could ever find Louis from that place. In this dim studio, it kind of terrifies Harry. Like he’d be alone. 

 

“Why won’t you go home?” Harry decides to ask, just to make sure Louis is still present. 

“I don’t know really. I always come up with these excuses, that I have to practice or have a bit of time for myself before some Juilliard thing. They’re all just a bunch of half-truths, when I could easily go home for a few days.” 

Harry feels a pang of guilt hitting him hard. Louis is saying the things Harry has been saying to his family for a while now. To his mum, when she asks when he’d be able to come home for a bit. Or to his sister, who tells him she misses him. New York has taken Harry and doesn’t want to let go of him. Yet, Harry knows he could leave and have an occasional break. What a weird case of Stockholm Syndrome. 

 

“New York has this hold of you, like it’d be a possessive friend, who doesn’t want you to visit the people that matter the most to you,” Harry doesn’t know where it comes from, but he still says his thoughts out loud. 

New York is his friend, the one who he trusts and who always shows him new places to visit or something to look at. And sometimes it gives him anxiety, like New York could stare at him through his window and shout his name on the streets, just to make sure Harry doesn’t forget him. 

“That’s an interesting way of seeing it,” Louis turns his head to look at Harry, somehow waiting for Harry to keep going. But he also knows Harry won’t say anything, not if Louis doesn’t ask something from him. 

 

“Why did you want to come to Juilliard?” Harry hears, and he starts to smile immediately. Juilliard, the love hate relationship he has with this place. 

“I remember, when I was six or seven, my mum asked what I’d want to do as a hobby. I remember how girls at school were all about ballet and dancing. They even danced during recess and they told our teacher about their dance classes and their tutus. it was funny, actually, how I always wanted to join them and be as excited as they were. I told my mum I wanted to dance and she took me to a dance school.” Harry smiles at the memory, how distant it feels now. 

“The girls from my class stopped dancing when they got older. I, on the other hand, kept dancing. I wasn’t able to imagine my life without dancing. I kept practicing and performing and I wanted to make a career out of it. How I ended up here wasn’t the plan though…” Harry silences himself. 

The silence inside him is deafening, even though the song is still playing. He tunes it out, closes his eyes, and sees his dad in a hospital bed. He was supposed to dance in London, be close to his family while his dad would recover from cancer. 

 

But it was just one moment, just one breath, one last time he held hands with his dad. And suddenly he wasn’t there anymore. Harry wanted to stay in London for the sake of his family, he had a place in the Royal Academy of Dance, everything was planned. 

Until that one spring morning, when the birds were singing and cherry trees were blossoming. There were flower petals on the pavement, where he was walking, on his way to see his dad. And his phone rang. And it was his mum, with tears in her voice. Harry knew what she was going to say. He didn’t want to hear it though, so he just held his phone in his hand, but never put it against his ear. 

He was standing under one of the cherry trees and everything just slowed down. Nothing was the same anymore. In a way, he knew it was going to happen, the inevitable. Still, he was angry at the world for being so unfair. At his dad, for not keeping his promises. He was supposed to be okay. Even though he wasn’t. 

 

His cancer had advanced and they all knew it was going to happen sooner or later. Harry can only remember thinking about the plans they had made, how his dad would come and see him dance on a big stage. How they’d travel to some country where Harry’s dad would’ve always wanted to go. They never did those things. There was just silence. 

Everything changed. Harry closed himself off from his mum and sister. He made plans for himself without telling about them to the people that were everything at that moment. He talked with the school, and they understood him well. Maybe even too well. Harry asked for a transfer, he would’ve done anything to be able to go somewhere else. He got into Juilliard. He didn’t tell his mum or his sister until a week before he was supposed to leave. Everything was already taken care of. It’s all just a blur after that. 

He ended up in Juilliard because he lost his dad. He never likes to admit it, but he knows the truth. 

 

“Harry?” Louis asks, waiting to hear his voice to finish what he was saying. 

“It wasn’t planned, because I got accepted into another school first, but then to my surprise, I got accepted here.” Harry smiles, suppressing everything his heart is weeping about. 

“It was a wonderful opportunity, I wasn’t able to say no,” Harry chuckles, his lie so well-rehearsed, that it sounds fabricated even to himself. He doesn’t look at Louis, but knows that he sees right through him. 

 

“Why are you here, if you want to go back to London?” Harry asks Louis instead, knowing that it’s easier for him to talk, rather than Louis asking questions Harry doesn’t want to give answers to. 

“I had planned to come here for as long as I can remember. I think I was ten, when I found out about Juilliard. Since then I did my best to get in. And It paid off!” Harry hears a smile in Louis’ voice. A genuine, proud smile of his achievements. 

 

“Why do you want to go back to London then?” 

“I’ve realised that I’m not who I want to be, when I’m in New York. I enjoy my time here, but I’m not my best self. I get too competitive and too exhausted. Like they say, the city never sleeps. It keeps me awake too, and if you can’t sleep, you’ll be a living dead amongst everyone else. I don’t like myself here, and I miss home,” Louis talks like he has practiced these words. 

 

“What did that sound like?” He suddenly asks, and when Harry looks at him, confusion written all over his face, he knows Louis really wants to know. 

“I don’t know, like you’ve thought about it for a while?” Harry raises his brows, not knowing what Louis is thinking. If he’s mocking Harry for answering his question with lies or what? 

“Good! I’m trying to come up with something to say to the application board next week, when I have my London audition,” he smiles and looks happy with himself. 

Harry really understands, how ambitious Louis actually is. And how he’s creating an image around himself. It’s sincere, but doesn’t tell the whole truth. 

 

“Who helped you with the choreography for that audition?” Harry really wants to know, just so he’ll know his competition in the future. Who he has to keep an eye on in the group. Who he needs to beat when it comes to dancing, if he wants to be the one getting all the best work offers. As soon as he says those words, he knows that he shouldn’t be asking this from Louis. He already knows the answer. He has known it for a while and it has only gotten stronger during this evening. 

“What? No one helped me, what kind of a person do you think I am? That I don’t have enough creativity to actually make my own choreos? That I always need someone to hold my hand? Let me ask you, who helped us make the choreo we created this evening?” Louis actually sounds like he’s a bit offended. 

The same tone that Harry heard earlier today, when he forgot Louis’ name, seeps through into the words Louis says. Still, Louis is the epitome of calmness next to him, and Harry doesn’t suck the angry energy from him. Louis is just pointing out the truth, making it clearer for Harry. 

 

“We made the choreo, you and me,” Harry says, feeling like an idiot. He needs to stop thinking so low of Louis. He might be a year younger, but he seems much more mature than Harry has ever felt. Maybe it’s even a way of coping for him, to try and put Louis down so Harry could feel better about himself. 

“Exactly.” 

“You really have a talent,” Harry admits, even though it stings. He can’t deny it though. Louis is talented, in so many ways. 

Harry can’t stop comparing himself to Louis, even when he knows he shouldn’t. He’s making a list in his mind about all the things Louis can do and then compares that list to the things he himself can’t do. He never finds that list, that’s titled “What Harry is good at”. It’s only the negative points, the things that make him question if he’s a good dancer at all. 

“Thank you,” Louis says quietly, his voice calm and rich with thoughts. But it’s much stronger, than before. 

 

“What’s the time?” Harry finally asks, when they’ve laid on the floor for too long and his back is starting to scream for help. Louis scrambles himself up from the floor. His footsteps vibrate against the floor and into Harry’s senses. They sound soft and too loud at the same time, like an earthquake inside Harry’s bones and brain. 

“Almost midnight,” he says, which makes Harry groan. He closes his eyes, tired, but content, and he sits up. 

“What do you think, should we show what we managed to put together, to Niall tomorrow at the rehearsal?” Harry cracks his back and slowly stands up, stretching his sides. 

“We can do that. It’s not finished, but maybe he can give us some ideas of where to take it,” Harry nods, knowing that he must look like shit. At least he feels like shit. He knows he also looks like he just slept for a few hours, his eyes not properly open and his hair sticking to the back of his head. 

“Great, then we’ll do just that,” Louis smiles, and packs his things. The studio falls silent, when Harry turns off the music. 

“Don’t forget your phone,” he tells Harry, when Harry is putting on a jacket and checking if he has everything. He gives a thankful smile to Louis, but lets it fade. 

 

They leave the studio, like it’d be wasteland. Louis turns off the lights and they’re met with darkness. Harry can only hear their footsteps and he follows Louis’ light ones, even though he could just follow the light that comes in through the window next to the door. 

Following Louis just seems more natural, even though it makes Harry wary. This morning he was thinking he will never dance with Louis. Now he thinks Louis might be one of the best dance partners he has ever had. 

He locks all the things they talked about into a small cupboard in his mind, just to make it easier for himself. He has to make it clear for himself, that this is just a dance, just one choreography. Not a sign of friendship in any shape or form. It’s him and it’s Louis, separately and as far away from each other as possible on a mental level. 

 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Louis says as soon as they’re out the door. The silence between the two didn’t seem that uncomfortable inside the studio, but now, when they’re out in the open, it’s like someone would be hitting them with a baseball bat and demanding them to say something else too. 

“Yeah, good night,” Harry says, turning towards Louis and stops. Louis smiles tightly, and leaves, not saying a word back. He’s going towards the campus, walking fast, like he’s already used to going back to his own home late at night. 

 

Harry still hears parts of the song playing in his head, like glimpses of something that he can’t get rid of. Like a memory he wouldn’t want to remember. The song opened up wounds, that he forgot long ago. And he’s not sure if he wants them to be open like this. 

He takes his time to get back home. Liam is there, in his own room, but he doesn’t come out to greet Harry. And even if he’d have the chance, Harry already sneaks into his own room, dropping his bag on the floor.

 

These kinds of rollercoaster days aren’t good for him. He’s so used to controlling himself, keeping everything at bay, that today feels like his life would’ve shifted in some inexplicable way. Something about this day changed his life forever, but he doesn’t know what that is yet. He’s dreading to find it out, because he knows he won’t be able to stay calm then. And he doesn’t want to let go of his own boundaries. He’s not ready for it. 

Harry meets Liam in the kitchen, when he’s getting a glass of water. He realises he hasn’t eaten for the whole evening, but he’s too distracted to be even hungry. It’s too late anyway. Liam is saying something, his face smiling, and Harry smiles back and nods his head, but his ears don’t catch anything. 

 

He washes his face and brushes his teeth, and when he sees his own reflection in the mirror, he doesn’t recognise the person staring back at him. He’s scared of that person, what he’s able to do. He can see his green eyes, too dark, and sees something familiar. But the familiarity changes into a hard stare, that makes Harry turn his gaze away. He can feel his hands shaking, telling him to calm down and go to sleep, but his mind is racing. 

The can of worms is opened. One worm, two, three, escape and make him think about his heartbreak. His family. How he never opened his mouth about any of it. How he’s voiceless when it comes to the people, who have hurt him the most. Who have made him the person he’s today. 

He lays in the dark of his room, unable to close his eyes. His body is relaxed against the mattress, in the warmth and comfort under his duvet. He can’t feel his legs; thighs, ankles, heels, the bottoms of his feet, his toes. His hands are going numb too. It calms him and makes him anxious at the same time. Makes him lose his mind a bit. But his mind is lost anyway. He can only think about the worms crawling there, bringing up memories he’d much rather not remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this second chapter. Whatever emotions you have, over this or in general, you can always come talk to me on [tumblr](https://shadowofyoursong.tumblr.com/) or leave a comment here :)   
> I'll be updating next Saturday, 9.9. :)


	3. Ghost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! :)   
> This chapter is the angstiest so far, be warned. 
> 
>  
> 
> The XX - Test Me   
> Andre Bratten - Iconography  
> Vince Staples - Summertime   
> Pixies - Where Is My Mind?  
> Maxence Cyrin - Where Is My Mind  
> Maxence Cyrin - No Cars Go  
> Gabrielle Shonk - Habit  
> X Ambassadors - Unsteady

There was a time, when Harry was different. If you’d put that Harry and the one, who is now lying in his bed staring at the darkness of his ceiling, together in the same room, you’d think they’re different people. They just look the same from afar. But if you look at them closely, you can see the difference. 

There was a time, when Harry looked like he was about to smile all the time. Like he was holding in a loud laughter. Even when his face was relaxed, he looked like he was smiling. His eyes were alive, free spirited and twinkly. His whole being was more expressive, out there, doing what he did best; dance. 

 

He had lived in New York for a year. Everything had fallen into place, he had friends and he had settled down. He didn’t have to think about the things he left behind in London. He lived and he experienced and he forgot the sorrow. 

He had found places he liked and he did things outside the dancing studio. Every day was an adventure, anything could happen on the street. He could spot small, miraculous things while he was outside and he lived through those small moments. 

 

Inside the dancing studio, there was another kind of miracle. A magnetising pull, that kept Harry coming back for more. He was one of the new kids in the middle of real dancers, who had been in the group for a while already. And there was a young man, who intimidated Harry. He also made Harry laugh like no one else. Like Harry wouldn’t have known how to laugh before him. 

Deon. 

He was like gold in Harry’s eyes. Golden skin, golden eyes, golden soul. He was perfect. His voice was smooth like honey dripping down your chin and his eyes were always burning one way or another. He knew what he was doing and he did it well. 

Harry always saw him first when he came in and he always saw Deon leave, when he was going out the door. Then came a day, when they had to practice for the big spring finale. Harry had caught the teacher’s, Mr. Malik’s, eye and Harry took what he was given. A duo part to dance with Deon. 

 

It was like a dream. They had to tell a story with their performance. They had to tell a story about passion. They had to choose if it was positive or negative, and because Harry was filled with laughter, it was a no brainer. Their passion was filled with joy. 

And their passion stretched out of the dance studio into Harry’s room and into Deon’s room. They wanted to be discreet about it all, about how they felt towards each other, but in the end, everyone still knew. They all knew what was happening behind closed doors. 

 

In the dark Harry can still see the faint glow of Deon’s skin. Alone in his bed, he thinks about Deon’s arms around Harry. His way of whispering things into Harry’s ear, just because he thought Harry was asleep. Harry always heard what he said and Deon made sure Harry would always remember them by squeezing Harry a little tighter after every sentence. 

The spring finale came and then it was over. Six months of hard work was over in one night. Harry laughed, Deon laughed with him, while his eyes travelled around them, protecting sweet and innocent Harry. 

His arms cradled Harry’s body against his and his hands combed through Harry’s long curls. His hands were like small lightning bolts against Harry’s scalp, they had power over Harry. 

 

That summer changed them. Deon’s arms became too tight, the lightning bolts became possessive. Harry’s laughter became quiet, until there was no laughter. There were remains of it, remains of old Harry, but he had started to change. Deon was like a straitjacket, keeping Harry in place, holding him close, loving him until it was suffocating him. 

Harry didn’t go out anymore. He only spent time with Deon or Liam, who just happened to be around when Harry and Deon spent time at Harry’s apartment. There was nothing special about it in the end. They were so far away from each other, that it became impossible for them to understand each other. Still, they couldn’t let go, they were so used to being together that they didn’t know what life was without the other anymore. 

 

Harry cut his hair. Deon said he liked it, meaning it. Harry said he liked it too, but didn’t mean it. It was a pleasant change, but it was a tremendous change for him. It was part of him, he hadn’t cut it since he moved from London. Where he had left his past, his family, and moved to a new city knowing that in the end it would change him. He enjoyed the change, but he wasn’t ready to let go of the sorrow he still carried around. He’ll probably always carry it, he thought back then and still thinks it to this day. 

Harry felt the ghosts of his past. He never talked about them, never processed anything. He was just strong, taking care of his new life in New York. And he wanted to forget London, but it didn’t want to be forgotten. 

He had nightmares about cherry trees and flower petals, about warm spring days, about empty hospital beds. Those nightmares kept him in place, made his days darker. Yet, he avoided them, wanted to run the other way, as far away from them as he could. But it was impossible. 

 

His golden boy turned into a stranger. Sleeping in the same bed meant sleeping as far away from each other as they could, their backs turned to any connection. Their smiles weren’t sincere, there was nothing to be happy about anymore. 

They were two people, who had been like one, but then became apart again. They were two lovers, who had fallen in love, and fallen out of love. Like their dance for the spring program. It was passionate and they burned the passion until there was only cold coals left. Black and messy. 

They broke up in their minds, but stayed together. Six months of cracks and darkness, and Harry was like another person. When there was nothing to say anymore, they broke up in real life. 

 

Deon left, when he got a job from Los Angeles. They met one last time, two days before he was supposed to leave. He wanted to remember the good times with Harry. Deon wanted him to come to the airport, at 8.30 in the morning. Harry wanted to go, but his body didn’t work. He sent Deon a message, explaining himself why he wouldn’t be there. He laid in bed, stared at a clock on his nightstand and saw how it turned 8.30. He imagined his golden boy reading the text Harry had sent him, trying to understand the things Harry had said. 

Harry got a text before Deon stepped on the plane. “You’re a fucking asshole, and you should always remember that!”, it said. And Harry did. It fit Harry’s new personality. He was the asshole. He never answered that message, never heard from Deon again. Like it never happened. He had a broken heart and he didn’t recognise himself anymore. 

 

That’s when it began. The constant struggle to be someone, anyone, but himself. He was proud of himself, he was one of the best. He practiced and he took up the role of an asshole. 

Not everyone was worthy of his time. If he liked someone, he made the effort to learn their name. If he liked someone, he talked with them. He made friends with them. If he didn’t like someone, they were air to him. He saw them, but they didn’t mean anything to him. 

 

In the darkness of his bedroom, at 4 in the morning, he’s making a new kind of list. _Who have I hurt_ -list. 

There was a boy, who had just started at Juilliard and was looking for the right dance studio. He asked Harry for advice. Harry listened to him, looked at his hopeful, nervous eyes and when it was time for Harry to answer, he brushed past him, ripping the boy’s map in the collision. 

He turned around, but not to say sorry. Instead he said: “You think I’m going to help you? Go back home, New York isn’t for you, Juilliard isn’t for you, you’re not welcome.”

 

There was a boy, who didn’t go to lunch with the other dancers. He stayed in the studio, practiced or ate an apple or a sandwich sometimes in front of everyone. Once Harry stayed to stalk what he was doing. The boy thought Harry was there to help him. He thought wrong. 

Harry turned his bag upside down, bullied him about his food journal he had hid under all of his clothes, and finally found a small purse. He took it, and just left, leaving the boy on his own. He thought he had found his secret stash of drugs or something, ready to get rid of the boy, get him kicked out of the group. But it turned out he was wrong. And he couldn’t admit that he was wrong. 

The boy was diabetic, and his eating schedule was different compared to the group’s schedule. Harry felt bad, and for the first time he understood that he truly was an asshole. He returned the medication, and he couldn’t help but notice the boy’s red rimmed eyes. After the incident Harry didn’t see the boy again. Apparently, he had transferred to another group. That was the last time Harry bullied someone over their eating. 

 

That’s when he came up with another way to be an asshole to someone. He hooked up with as many students from school as he could, always breaking someone’s heart. 

There’s a long list of people, whose names Harry doesn’t know. There’s boys and girls, from different groups and different years. Until one name. 

 

Introducing, Nico. Harry already knew him from the group, they started at the same time, but always thought him to be a little silly. They had hung out in the same group outside the studio a few times, but Harry never really cared about him. 

Until Nico became the golden boy for the teacher. It annoyed Harry, because he knew he wasn’t the teacher’s favourite and Nico had claimed the throne. He wanted to hurt Nico. 

 

In the end Nico opened Harry’s eyes. Harry had the perfect plan. He would stay in the studio after their practice and he would seduce Nico into thinking that Harry actually liked him. Then, little by little, he’d take Nico’s mind off of dancing and lose his place as the favourite. 

He stayed in the studio. Nico was smiling as usual and it annoyed Harry. He wanted to see tears, he wanted to make Nico lose his focus. He wanted to be perfect. 

 

“What do you want, Harry?” Nico asked him, when he walked closer with a fake smirk on his face. 

“I was just thinking what you were going to do later today,” Harry’s voice was so different back then, even he heard how creepy he sounded. 

“Look, Harry, I’m not interested,” Nico just deadpanned and didn’t show any interest. He was packing his bag and was about to leave.

“Maybe I could change that,” Harry suggested, almost too close to Nico. He turned towards Harry and stared at him with dead eyes. 

“No, you won’t. You know why? Because I don’t go out with bullies, who are just being assholes. Harry, you’re a real asshole,” He just said, thinking he was hurting Harry severely with his words. 

“That’s what they say,” Harry just smiled and was sure he was going to make him fall for him so hard that he’d forget dancing altogether. 

 

“Yeah, they say a lot about you, and an asshole is the kindest word anyone can describe you with. Do you know what kind of a reputation you have here? What do you think they say behind your back, when you think they’re afraid of you?” Nico only asks, and finally he breaks Harry’s smile. He never cared what others were thinking. But he also always thought they’re scared of him, and if that’s not the truth, then what is. 

“Harry, I suggest you learn how to be a human, not a robot. Or you’ll actually be the one getting hurt, not the ones who you think you’re scaring,” Nico smiled kindly, and was about to leave, when Harry’s anger came to life.

 

“You know nothing about anything, so don’t throw threats around!” Nico stopped on his track and gave Harry a good look. He saw someone who was scared, someone who was so severely broken, that he’d need a hug, not a beating. 

“I’m not threatening you with anything. There’s just something I know, and it’s not going to look good in your resume, if you ever want to get a job. You want to know what that is?” Harry felt his heart beating out of his chest. He wasn’t getting what he wanted, Nico wasn’t going to kneel before him. Harry was kneeling in front of Nico, praying he wouldn’t get hurt. 

“I’ve heard rumours… Do you even know how many people you’ve fucked around with? Because I know a lot of those people and they’ve gone to the school board.” Harry knew immediately what that meant. If you go talk with the school board, you won’t be awarded with “best student” awards. 

“And just so you know, there’s teachers in that group too,” Nico knew he was breaking Harry apart, showing him that what he had been doing had consequences. 

 

Harry’s consequence was a month-long suspension. He had to see a therapist and he was on probation for a month after coming back to school. He wasn’t able to take part in the spring program and for him, it was like learning to dance again. 

He hadn’t called his mum in months after him and Deon broke up and anytime she had tried to contact him, Liam was the one to answer any questions. During his suspension, he heard his mum’s voice for the first time in a long time and that was rock bottom for him. Everything ended there, and started all over again. 

 

After Harry got back to his feet, he didn’t talk to anyone in his group for a while. He just danced, even though it was mediocre at best. Nico started to help him, and he encouraged Harry to break free. So, Harry did. But he was never the same anymore. 

He never found himself, he was just a shell and his spirit had left his body. He became good friends with Nico and got introduced to some other people too, but they weren’t able to trust Harry. He didn’t really have that many friends after his stint as an asshole. He had Liam and Nico, which was enough for him. 

But he was never able to think about Deon again. And if he would, it’d be a paralysing feeling, of being numb and feeling too much at the same time. 

 

In the darkness of his room he can’t close his eyes. Everyone knows what kind of a person Harry is. He knows that Mr. Horan knows it too. He was just dancing in another group at the time. The whole dancing department knew Harry, because everyone hated him. Some still do. 

Harry doesn’t want to make a lot of noise about himself. He just wants to succeed, get out of Juilliard with good recommendations and be on his own. It’s good enough. 

 

It’s almost 6.30 and he gets up without closing his eyes once during the night. He has a cold shower, drinks coffee, and hopes he won’t look too tired. 

“Haven’t you slept at all?” Liam asks him, when he’s putting on his jacket. 

“Not really,” Harry only mumbles, his head a mess.

“Is everything okay?” Liam looks worried, lines forming on his forehead. 

“I’m fine. I’ll be home early tonight.” Harry turns away and leaves without saying anything else. Today’s going to be a disaster. He wonders if he’s going to be able to show anything to Mr. Horan with Louis. He wonders if he remembers anything from the choreo he created with Louis last night. He’ll find out soon enough, he just has to keep his eyes open. 

 

Harry arrives at the studio with just a few minutes to spare. He has never been this late before, and he wouldn’t want to open the door at all. But he has to. His limbs feel heavy and his mind is somewhere far away, thinking about the memories that rose to the surface last night. He doesn’t know how he’s still walking, how he’s still standing. He’s too tired, but he has to be there. 

Everyone turn their eyes on Harry, when he eventually opens the door. They all look like they’d prefer Harry to walk back out, and never to return. He tries to ignore the stares, look the other way, but the others do it first. They don’t care if he’s there or not, it’s all in Harry’s head. 

 

He sees Nico, looking at his way with a worried look on his face. 

“ _You okay?_ ” He mouths, and Harry only nods. He doesn’t want to admit he’s definitely not okay, especially in front of others, who don’t really even like him. Or do they, what do they think? Do they still remember all of the things Harry did wrong, like he remembers them? Should he say something to them, right here right now? 

His eyes flick to Horan and Louis, who are deep in conversation, but they’re also looking at Harry from time to time. Harry wonders if Louis is telling Niall about last night, and Horan can tell Louis what a horrible person Harry has been. That he should be careful, and definitely not become Harry’s friend. Louis signs Harry to come over. His feet drag against the floor, like he’d be unable to lift them at all. They’re heavy with guilt. 

 

“Morning Harry,” Horan smiles and looks at Louis, like giving him an approval to continue. 

“We were just thinking about something… Mr. Horan has said that he’d like to see the soloists and pairs do their choreo in private, before showing anyone else, so they could perfect it. But we were actually thinking if we should dance it here and have the others as an audience? Just because we still have bits that need to be figured out, so maybe they could give us some ideas and we could work from there.” He talks fast, too fast for Harry’s ears to hear every word. 

He nods, not sure what he just gave his permission to, but it can’t be that bad. The only thing he did hear from Louis’ speech was that they’re going to dance in front of everyone. It’s good. 

 

“Go warm up, and then we’ll start,” Mr. Horan looks at Harry with narrow eyes and leaves him and Louis on their own. 

“What has happened to you? You look like you’ve been hit by ten trucks,” Louis places his hand on Harry’s shoulder, when he digs through his bag and takes out his training gear. 

“I’m fine,” Harry says, but when he sees Louis’ face, it’s not pleased with the answer. 

“I didn’t ask if you’re fine, I asked what has happened to you,” Harry can only see his lips moving, a faint echo of his voice, but Harry’s not there to understand the meaning of the words. 

“I didn’t sleep that well last night,” Harry mumbles, his eyes half shut. He feels like he won’t be able to keep them open. He could fall asleep at any second, no matter the situation. Everything spins in his head, and his vision is blurry. Nothing makes sense, when it should. 

 

He does his warm up routine, and he barely thinks about it. He just does it, like he has done it for the past four years. He hears people chattering, a random laughter, a quiet whisper. But he’s in a bubble of sleep and wakefulness. 

“… Have parts of their choreo ready, so keep your eyes open and let’s see what they’ve come up with,” Mr. Horan introduces and the others clap. 

“Harry, get up,” Louis hisses, pulling Harry from his thoughts of nothingness. He follows Louis to the front, and sees their audience. 

They all look like they’re there to judge, give Harry what he deserves. He hears a faint sound in his head, but can only focus on the faces in front of him. 

 

“Wake up!” The voice yells in his ear and he has to look at Louis, who looks confused next to Harry. It wasn’t Louis’ voice, it was no one from this room. It’s the can of worms, crawling in his memories, playing old fights on repeat. His heart hammers unpleasantly, pumping adrenaline all over his body. He’s definitely awake now.

He hears the song playing, it has been playing a while. Everyone look at him with weird expressions on their faces, questioning if Harry is ready for this. 

 

“Sorry, I was thinking about something, let’s start again,” Harry breaks a laughter from his crumbling nerves, but doesn’t make anyone else laugh or even smile. Mr. Horan starts the song again, this time Harry is there, present, dancing. 

It feels like he’s being stretched, while everything is breaking. First his joints, then his bones, then every muscle, every vein. Lastly his skin, that just splutters out blood and every little detail of his past. But he keeps dancing, he wouldn’t be here if he wouldn’t want to dance. 

 

Louis’ eyes are intense, even more intense than yesterday. Every time he’s in some contact with Harry, he stares right into Harry’s eyes, and Harry stares right back. There’s a connection that is trying to strangle Harry. Make him lose control, make him do things that he hasn’t done in a long time. 

Suddenly Louis stops and Mr. Horan pauses the music. 

 

“Here’s one part, where we need your help. There has to be some elements to keep the audience on their toes, keep them waiting and longing for something more.” Harry just stands there, trying to listen while his mind drifts off to some dark place. 

Many suggest more lifts, and that’s what they do. Harry lifts Louis up, but he’s too stiff and Louis is too graceful. It’s almost like a marble statue is trying to lift up a butterfly. They try different lifts in different ways, until they find something that could work. 

Harry can feel how Louis is not confident enough to let Harry lift him up. But he does it anyway, because they don’t have a choice. They work the lift into the existing choreo and Harry feels like he can do it. Louis isn’t heavy and he just needs to focus on this one dance. 

 

Mr. Horan plays the song from the start. They begin, and again Harry feels like he’s being suffocated. He looks into Louis’ eyes, stares at them so hard that everything around him blurs out. 

He can see the blue, but Louis’ hair turns into gold. His skin colour turns into gold. And the only thing that is keeping Harry here, are Louis’ eyes. The deep blue keeps him focused, keeps him alive. He feels his own eyes drying, and he has to blink. He feels hands on his throat, gripping him tighter and tighter. He closes his eyes for that one millisecond. 

 

There’s no Louis. Only Deon. Who is screaming at Harry, who is reminding Harry why he’s such an asshole. For cheating, for making it feel like it was Deon’s fault in the first place. 

Another can opens. The can, that he has wanted to destroy for a long time, but it’s made out of steel and doesn’t want to be forgotten. The one, that makes Harry still feel like a failure, a person he doesn’t want to know. It’s the can, that holds in a person, who did horrible things to Deon. 

Harry didn’t tell Deon about the other guy, when they were together. He told Deon the night before he left for Los Angeles. Harry sent him a text, telling him everything. He didn’t expect an answer, they had broken up. It was over. But Deon did answer, and his hate was so strong, that it made Harry stay in bed. And there was only hate left. 

“I can’t feel love,” Harry had said in the text, and it’s like a curse that’s following him. He knows it’s still the truth. 

 

Deon terrifies him, and now he needs to catch him. Take him against his body and not let go. But when he jumps, Harry can’t make his arms work. He tries to lift them, but they’re paralysed against his sides. Deon blurs into white, until there’s only light. 

Harry feels his feet taking steps backwards, until his back is against the wall. There’s some shouting, a loud noise, and some more shouting. Harry closes his eyes and presses his palms against them. Whiteness turns into blackness and his legs give out. He’s breathing, he can feel his pulse in his ears, but the shouting in the room mixes with Deon’s voice. 

Time stops. Everything stops. He’s not there, and he’s everywhere at the same time. The voices mix together, until there’s nothing left. Just floating through time and space, nothing’s real. Breathing is hard, harder, until he feels like he can’t breathe anymore. His heart is trying to fight against it, make him understand that he has to calm down. But he can’t. Something’s happening, everything’s happening, it’s too fast and too slow at the same time. 

 

“Harry? Harry?” There’s someone holding his wrists. Feeling someone’s warm hands against his skin give him a sense of reality. He can feel a wall against his back. His feet against the floor. He can hear sounds, distinct different voices from each other. The room isn’t spinning anymore, and he dares to take his hands away from his face slowly. The first thing he sees is Nico. He looks beyond worried, almost scared. 

“Can you hear me?” He asks, not too loud, his voice only for Harry to hear. Harry almost misses it, because of the loud chattering from everyone else. What happened? 

“Can you hear me?” Nico repeats, his hands still on Harry’s wrists. He squeezes them lightly to get Harry’s attention. Harry nods, while he tries to see what the others are doing. They’ve gathered into a small circle, all bent down like someone would be on the floor. 

 

“What’s going on?” Harry hears his broken voice, too tired to care what Nico thinks about it. If he gets more worried or not. He can see it from Nico’s face anyway. He’s more worried. 

“Harry, you were in the middle of doing your choreo with Louis. And he was already up in the air when you backed away and let him drop on the floor.” What did he just say? 

“Why was Louis there?” Harry can only see Deon in his mind, his face and his skin and his hair and his eyes. Not Louis, the innocent boy who is only doing his best, trying to make it work with Harry.

“Because he’s your partner?” Nico turns away just as he has said it, and suddenly Mr. Horan is there. 

 

“Harry, what just happened?” He asks, kneeling in front of him just like Nico. 

“You’re a psycho!” Someone yells. 

“Asshole!” Another voice. Harry tries to see who are saying these things, tries to see where Louis is. But he can’t see Louis, there’s too many people on the way. They’ve all surrounded Louis, like he needs protection from Harry. 

 

They all leave, Nico and Mr. Horan are the only ones with Harry. 

“Can you explain what just happened?” Harry tries to decide if he’s angry or worried, maybe even both. Nico is calling someone, and when he gets a hold of them, he moves away. 

“I… I’m not sure, I don’t know…” Harry follows Nico with his eyes, who has turned his back towards Harry. 

“Where did everyone go? Should we go too?” Harry wants to stand up, needs to stand up. When he leans forward, towards Niall, he can’t feel where his thighs and shins have gone. He can only feel his feet, firmly against the floor. 

“Just sit there, Nico is calling your friend,” Mr. Horan holds Harry in his place with his hand against Harry’s shoulder. It’s not hard to keep him against the wall, Harry feels so drained. Not even from being so tired, but because something is happening. Something, that he can’t control. Something, that makes him weak. 

 

It’s the can of worms. It’s his past, the things he doesn’t want to think about. It’s the things that made him who he is now. He has been so careful about those memories, that it has just been easy for him to not care, forget everything. 

Maybe it wasn’t the best choice. Because those memories, those events in his life, are now bigger than they ever were. They seem like nuclear bombs exploding inside his head. They’re separating his limbs and head from his body, that feels like it has been filled with sand. He can’t get up and if he would, he would go back down. 

 

“Where’s Louis?” 

“He got hurt, the others are taking him to an emergency room.” 

“Is it my fault? It’s my fault, isn’t it?” Harry feels an enormous disappointment on top of all of the other feelings. Like he wouldn’t be messed up enough already. 

 

It’s like he’s stirring a mug filled with tea. He has put in the honey and he’s watching it dissolving into the liquid. He knows the honey is there, even though it has completely melted and he can’t see it anymore. He keeps stirring and stirring, until there’s no steam rising from the mug. It has gone cold. 

No one wants to drink cold tea. So, he lets it sit in the mug, until he has to pour it down the drain. The tea splashes in the sink, before all of it is washed down the pipes. It’s easy to forget the tea, it’s not a big deal. But then he makes another cup of tea. And he does the same thing. He watches it go cold, and he pours it down the drain. At some point it makes him wonder, why is he doing it? Why can’t he drink it? 

Then he realises; it’s because the tea is still too hot. And he becomes mesmerised by the movement the spoon makes, the soft clinking it makes against the porcelain. And then he realises that he has been staring at it too long, and he doesn’t want to drink it anymore. 

 

It makes him angry; why can’t he just drink the damn tea when it’s done. And he does, and it burns his mouth completely. Still, he can’t stop. He lets it burn his sensitive taste buds and numb them. Soon, he can’t feel the burn anymore. He knows it’s still too hot, but he’s so used to it. So, he keeps going, until he has drunk the tea and realises he has made a mistake. How can he taste anything now? How can he eat anything without feeling it burn his mouth all over again? 

That’s the disappointment, his fault. It was his fault. 

“Let’s not think about it now,” Mr. Horan says, but his face is emotionless. He’s just a blank canvas, not angry, not sad, not worried. Just… Something. And it bothers Harry more than actually seeing an emotion, whatever that may be. 

 

The door opens, and Harry is ready to take a beating. The others would definitely beat the living shit out of him, and they wouldn’t control it; their hate. Harry doesn’t feel a punch against his jaw though, he feels a gentle hand on his shoulder and sees a friendly face. 

“Let’s go home,” Liam says and helps Harry up. Nico takes Harry’s bag from the floor and the three go outside. Nico hails a cab and they all cram into one, Harry in the middle. 

He can’t stop thinking about Louis. What if he’s seriously hurt? What if Harry unintentionally ruined his career as a dancer, made his dreams crash and burn on the studio floor. What if he can’t dance in his audition next week, for London? 

Harry is just numb, like his mouth, that can’t answer any of the questions Liam or Nico ask him. 

\- -

Harry shuts himself in for two days. He figures out he’s not wanted at the studio, when he only gets angry, hateful messages from almost everyone in the group. The only exceptions are Nico and Louis. Nico asks how he is, if he’s coming to the rehearsal. Louis doesn’t send anything, and Harry can only think that he’s so angry for ruining his career, that he doesn’t want to hear from Harry again. _Ever_ again. 

The first day he spends in his own room. He sleeps, not wanting to eat or talk. Liam comes into his room, but doesn’t bother asking any questions. He knows Harry and what he’s like, he knows he won’t get any answers even if he’d ask something. Or if he’d just say something. But he sits there, doing his own things. Harry can hear him typing something on his laptop and reading something, listening to music because he taps his foot against the floor and hums lightly. 

The second day he comes out of his room, wrapped in his duvet. He sits on the couch and realises that it’s only six in the morning. And it’s Saturday. He doesn’t have to go anywhere. He sits there, waiting, staring at the windows in front of him, not seeing anything else other than the building on the other side of the street and the sky. 

He wonders what’s going on. He already knows what happened the other day, it wasn’t the first time he’s had a panic attack. It just took him by surprise, because he hasn’t had them in so long. Especially related to Deon or their relationship. At the same time, he understands why he had it, why he’s on the edge even thinking about Thursday. 

 

“You’re awake!” Liam exclaims and jumps next to Harry over the back of the couch. 

“And you’re here!” He smiles and hugs Harry tightly. Harry doesn’t really know what to do, if he should hug Liam back or just sit there or say something. Maybe he should say something, that would be reasonable. But he doesn’t, instead he leans his head against Liam’s shoulder, his hands tightly under his duvet. 

“How’re you feeling? Hungry? I could make something for breakfast,” he lets go of Harry and already jumps up on his feet. Harry feels himself standing up slowly, too weak to make any sudden moves. He leans against the kitchen counter, while Liam starts frying eggs and making toast. 

 

“Liam?” He asks with a weak voice, listening to him humming some cheery song. He gives Harry a glance, letting him know he’s listening. 

“Do you think they hate me?” He’s looking at Liam, but as soon as Liam starts to turn his head towards Harry, he looks away. 

“Who, your group?” There’s a lot of questions in his voice. 

“Yeah?” 

“I don’t know, Harry. But if they do, then I don’t understand why. They don’t know you, they don’t know what was going on,” his words make Harry turn his eyes and meet Liam’s. 

 

“But I guess you didn’t mean just the group?” He smiles gently.

“I don’t think he’d hate you for it…” 

“He didn’t know what was going on either,” Harry says roughly, almost chocking on the words. 

“Do you have his number?” Liam asks, taking the toasts from the toaster. He inhales sharply through his teeth, dropping the slices of bread onto a plate quickly. 

 

“No…” Of course he hasn’t texted Harry! He doesn’t have Harry’s number, just like Harry doesn’t have his number. At least there’s that! But it doesn’t change anything. He doesn’t know if Louis is okay or not. If he was at the rehearsal yesterday. 

“Do you think I ruined his career?” Harry asks, his voice lowering to desperation again. 

“I don’t know. I don’t even know what happened out there on Thursday, I just know that you somehow dropped Louis, or let him drop and you had a panic attack.” 

 

Harry doesn’t dare to see the look on Liam’s face. He knows that Liam can’t know what Louis thinks or is feeling or what even happened there. Harry can’t recall it either, just because he feels like he wasn’t even there. But he still feels guilty. Just because he went there in the first place. 

He should’ve called in sick, told Niall that he wasn’t feeling that well. At least he would’ve been at home when he would’ve gotten the panic attack. Because he knew it was going to happen. He doesn’t know why he did it anyway, why he bullied himself into going there, messing with someone else as well. Like he would’ve punished himself by hurting himself and Louis at the same time.

He can’t take it back now. He can’t go back in time, call in sick and stay in his bed while the walls around him come crashing down. He’s not a magician and he can’t change anything. He can just go forward. 

 

“What if you go and meet him?” Liam asks, when he’s placing the plate with toast and egg on the table. Harry sits down and reveals his other hand under the duvet. Liam gives him a glass of orange juice, while he prepares his own breakfast. 

“I don’t know his number or where he lives. I don’t want to surprise him like that, if he hates me and everything.” Harry bites a small piece from his toast, thankful for getting something savoury into his body. His feet have been too weak, and not only because of the breakdown. 

 

“I know where he lives!” Liam smiles when Harry glances towards him. 

“C’mon, you won’t know what he thinks, unless you talk with him. And I think it’d be the best if you’d explain what happened the best you can. I’m pretty sure he’ll understand.” 

“Do you really think he’ll understand, even if I did something to harm his whole future?” 

“That I don’t know, Harry. I can’t give you any answers because I don’t have them. But I do think you should go and talk with him,” Liam sits down opposite from Harry. Their kitchen table is small, and their legs almost entwine under the table. 

 

“I can come with you, if you want?” Liam asks, but Harry only shakes his head. 

“No, I’ll do it on my own. Just give me his address.” Liam smiles and nods, eating like he wouldn’t have eaten in a long time. Harry’s still nibbling his own breakfast, even though he feels his hunger growing the longer the food is in front of him. Having a wonderful breakfast just doesn’t feel right at the moment, especially when his mind is thinking if he really did ruin someone’s life. 

Louis is too ambitious, he’d be destroyed if he wouldn’t be able to dance anymore. And that is a fact. For once Harry isn’t belittling Louis, and it comes at a time like this. He should’ve just said no to him, that he doesn’t want to even try dancing the duo with him. That he doesn’t want to try coming up with a choreo or see if they’ll make it work as a team. He should’ve said no, so nothing like this could’ve happened. 

\- - 

Liam suggests Harry they’d leave soon after breakfast, but Harry’s not feeling it. He wants to have a moment for himself before he meets the boy who will probably hate Harry for the rest of their lives. If Louis would’ve done something like what Harry did to him, he sure as hell would be fuming. But it didn’t go like that. 

Harry let Louis down, metaphorically and practically. This is all on Harry and this time he can’t come up with some lame excuses to explain it all to himself. He can only blame himself for Louis’ anger and hurting Louis and maybe he won’t be able to trust his future dance partners after Thursday’s incident. He just has to go and meet Louis, and it’ll be fine. Or at least somewhat fine, Harry’s ready to say goodbye to the whole duo performance. 

Liam gives Harry the time he needs and they leave at the same time after midday. He promises not to follow Harry, even though Harry has a feeling he will. Liam gives Harry the address and then he’s on his way, to the other direction where Harry is going. Harry stares at Liam’s back until he can’t see it anymore. 

Liam isn’t following him. 

Harry takes the subway and then decides to buy something for Louis. Just to cheer him up or if he has to lay in bed, to just make his time more bearable. An image of Louis lying in his bed floods Harry’s mind, just to annoy him. Like he wouldn’t be scared about what’s to come, now he’s even more scared of seeing Louis miserable. He’s taking it too personally and it annoys him, and at the same time, he’s sad because it happened. 

 

He finds himself from an electronic shop and browsing through the shelves. He wonders if he should buy a movie or a boxset of some tv-show. But he doesn’t even know what Louis watches, what movies he’s into, what he binge-watches. He picks up a boxset of a tv series everyone keep talking about. He doesn’t really understand the hype around it, he doesn’t like the gory scenes. But maybe Louis does? 

When he’s standing in line waiting to pay, a thought flashes in his mind. Why didn’t he message Nico?! He could’ve found out if Louis was at the studio yesterday or if he knows something about what condition he’s in. 

Harry slaps himself mentally, realising how he has once again made it all about himself. How he made it all happen, and not actually figuring out what happened to his dance partner. He has just come up with different scenarios that have started to make him lose his mind a bit. 

 

It’s too late now, though. He’s already going to Louis’, and it doesn’t make sense for him to message Nico anymore. Who knows, Nico might only know rumours, which would make everything even worse. It’s for the best that he just faces Louis, talks with him and doesn’t think about it any longer. It’s not doing any good for him to shy away from the real situation.

The most important thing now is just to hear everything from Louis, know exactly what happened. Maybe he can explain himself better too, let Louis know that he didn’t mean any of it to happen. 

He buys the boxset, and asks for the clerk to wrap it in a fancy blue paper. It’s an electric colour, almost reminds Harry of Louis’ eyes. He asks for the clerk to add a red bow on top, to make it even fancier. He’s such a kiss ass, but if it’ll make Louis feel at least a bit better, it’s all worth it. 

 

It’s not hard to find where Louis lives. His apartment is in one of the campus buildings, close to the studios. If Harry’d live here, he might not like it that much. The building is nice, nothing wrong with that, but he wouldn’t like living so close to the school. 

It’d just remind him of everything happening in the studio and he wouldn’t be able to forget everything for a while. Also, the apartments can be filled with four other students. He doesn’t want that, he needs his own space. He doesn’t know how Louis can handle it, but maybe it works fine for him. 

 

Harry checks the apartment number from his phone too many times, just standing behind the right door. He’s trying to buy time and soon it’ll be awkward. And what if someone opens the door! No, that can’t happen. He takes a shuddering breath and knocks on the door. No one answers. 

He knocks again, this time he hears footsteps from the other side. The door flings open, an unknown young man standing behind it. His facial features look bored, even though he’s clearly studying Harry and trying to figure him out. 

 

“Can I help you?” He asks, jerking his head forward. 

“Uhhh, I’m looking for Louis?” Harry tries to swallow his nerves, but he knows the stranger can hear them all in his voice. 

“Louis!” The man shouts, turning his head sideways to let his voice boom in the apartment. He doesn’t stop looking at Harry, while they wait for Louis to answer. No one answers. The man sighs, and scratches his head. His blond hair is kind of wildly swept away from his face and he looks like he just woke up from a nap. 

 

“Come on in, he’s in there,” he lazily points his hand towards one of the rooms, and without a word, he leaves Harry alone to stand in the doorway. Harry tries to figure him out, waiting for him to say something more, but when the guy doesn’t say anything, Harry just walks inside. He shuts the door and sees a row of shoes on the floor. Maybe they take off their shoes. He toes off his sneakers, and clutches the plastic bag with the present in both of his hands. 

He cranes his neck to look further into the apartment, while he takes tentative steps forward. The man has now disappeared somewhere, and the apartment sounds too quiet. 

Until there’s a familiar voice laughing. And then explaining something loudly, his voice relaxed and much more Irish than Harry has maybe ever heard. It’s odd hearing Mr. Horan laugh like this, or talk like this, when Harry is so used to hearing the professional side of his voice. His voice comes closer, until Harry sees a door opening and his teacher walks out smiling like a sunshine. 

 

“Harry!” He stops, a big smile on his face. 

“Mr. Horan,” Harry nods, not knowing what to do or where to look or what to say. 

“We’re not in the studio now, you can call me Niall,” he says and laughs heartily. He’s followed by a tall blonde girl, who eyes Harry with smiling eyes. She says a quiet hello to Harry, and he responds with a nod. She gives Niall’s hand a squeeze, then goes somewhere. There’s a pot clattering, maybe she went into the kitchen. 

 

“Who are you even talking with?” Louis comes out of the same room, like another kind of sunshine. It’s not just his smile, that sparkles on his face. 

Louis _is_ the sun, bright and happy and much more relaxed than Harry has ever seen him. Or maybe he saw the same sunshine-y person when they were coming up with the choreo on Wednesday. 

 

He stops on his tracks, his eyes wide, surprised to see Harry standing in his apartment. Mainly he looks happy, not like he’d hate Harry. But there’s also something else. Maybe it’s worry, maybe it’s confusion, Harry can’t really tell. But it fades away quickly, when it’s replaced with a calm smile.

“Hi, Harry,” Louis just says, starting to smooth Harry’s nerves immediately. 

“Hello,” he says and tries a smile, but he feels like crying. He hasn’t seen how Louis walks, if he’s just hiding his real injuries behind a smile. Harry can’t read him, tell what he’s thinking, what he really feels. 

Louis is special like that. He doesn’t let anything else through other than the things he wants to show to the other person. Maybe he’s hiding even more from Harry, it seems like it. He’s a bit more reserved around Harry, hiding in plain view. He’s there, but he’s not letting Harry in. 

 

“What are you doing here?” He asks, when no one says a thing. Niall looks uncomfortable standing there between the two. Louis is standing half behind him, half on his way further into the apartment. 

“I wanted to talk with you, if it’s okay. I know I didn’t ask if it’s fine that I’d come, but I don’t have your number so…” Harry feels like he’s rambling. He finishes by clearing his throat, when he sees Niall raising his brows and trying to hide a wide grin behind his hand. 

“I think I’m going to see what Iris is doing,” he says and smiles wide. 

“Sure, it’s fine. Let’s go into my room, we’ll have a bit more privacy.” Louis walks a few steps backwards, and then turns around to let Harry follow him. He’s not limping, or showing anything else either, that would indicate him being physically hurt. Harry still keeps observing his every move, if he’s just trying to act like everything is fine. 

 

Louis opens a door and goes in, stepping aside to let Harry in. The room is tidy, except for some random shirts and sweats on a couple of chairs. He picks them up and throws them into his wardrobe, that is standing in the corner of the room. 

“Welcome!” Louis smiles and sits on the bed, which is covered with a navy blue comforter. The room is white, with splashes of colours. He has a few pictures framed and they’re sitting on a bookshelf, with a few books Harry has never heard of. There’s also a poster of a male dancer on his wall. The man looks familiar, but Harry can’t place his face to a name. 

 

“Sit,” Louis points his hand to a chair by his desk. 

“What do you want to talk about?” He asks, his head tilted. 

“I know you know what I want to talk about,” Harry just says, his voice low, a bit annoyed that Louis isn’t angry at him. 

“You mean Thursday?” Louis just asks and takes a more comfortable position on his bed. He crosses his legs and keeps his hands on his lap. 

“Yes, I mean Thursday,” Harry just repeats, and then sighs. He doesn’t want to show any attitude towards Louis, who should be the one giving Harry a hard time. 

 

“What do you want? Me to be angry? Hug you?” Louis chuckles. That’s it. 

“Yes! I want you to show some emotion, not just smile like it was all okay!” Harry raises his voice, but then remembers that they’re not the only ones in the apartment. 

“I could do that. I could yell at you for dropping me. It was almost poetic, really, when you think about it. We don’t get a long that well, you drop me, or don’t even catch me, and I can’t really trust you. Is that something you want to hear?” Louis asks, his voice even, his brows raised. But his eyes, they’re not that calm. They’re burning with small embers, that are trying to tell Harry something. 

 

“I’m not going to do that, because I want to hear your version. I know something was up and maybe I should’ve told you I’m not willing to dance with someone, who’s not focused. But I didn’t, and you didn’t say no either. I want to hear what happened, then I’ll tell you how I feel.” Harry stares at him, not knowing what to do now. 

He was building this epic fight in his head and now it’s not going to happen. He was working himself up so much, that it feels like a huge let down, anticlimactic even, to hear these words from Louis. He still takes a breath and opens his mouth, seeing that Louis is waiting for him to start. But he can’t, because he doesn’t know where to start. He just stares at Louis with his mouth open, trying to breathe and see something with his blurry eyes.

There’s a voice in his head, trying to give Harry something to begin with. And then he catches it, what the voice says. _Be honest, tell him what really happened_. 

“I wasn’t myself that day…” Harry begins, clearing his throat, taking a huge breath in that cracks his ribs open and then lets him go and relax. He doesn’t dare to look at Louis, but he feels Louis’ eyes watching him closely. 

 

“ _Who are you thinking when we’re dancing this?_ ” Harry asks the same question Louis asked him, not meaning to ask it out loud. But the thought still forms into words on his tongue, ask it over and over in Louis’ voice, and he can see Deon’s face again. 

He can see Deon in front of him, in a different time, in a different place. When they exchanged I love you’s and smiles. When they laughed together, were still able to laugh. And his voice was honey that made Harry smile even more. 

Harry was soaked in it, trying to get as much honey as he could, make Deon his whole purpose. Until he wasn’t Harry’s purpose anymore. Until he saw how damaging it all was. Maybe that’s why he hurt Deon first before anyone else. To make himself stronger, being able to hurt others. 

“I’m thinking about someone, who… You know, sometimes, I think I still love him in some twisted way. Most of the time I hate him, I hate that part of my life, because he made me become someone who I don’t recognise in the mirror. Who are you thinking when we’re dancing this… I’m thinking about him, he was my first ever love. And he made me hate myself, he made me hate him, and he made me hate the joy dancing gave me.” 

 

Harry can’t believe he’s saying these things, especially when he’s saying them to Louis. It mostly feels like Louis has just left the room, Harry is just talking to himself, trying to make everything clear. But then he hears Louis’ soft breathing. It doesn’t bother him. 

He feels like he has to get it out there. To make himself heard. Even though the one listening would be someone who he doesn’t know completely, doesn’t know if he can trust Louis completely either, he still feels like he needs to get it out there. For Louis to know where Harry is coming from. 

 

“After the night at the studio, I knew I wasn’t okay with… I don’t even know what, because the choreo is marvellous and you were so good. But I only saw him and it hurt too much.” Harry closes his eyes and deliberately turns his face away from Louis’ line of vision. 

“It was all my fault on Thursday. I hadn’t slept at all the night before and I just didn’t know how to handle it. I feel like I have to apologise every day for different things and I feel weak when doing so. I’m sorry you can’t trust me. I’m sorry I’m not a nice person to work with. I’m sorry that I let you down. I’m sorry this has to be so hard, it’s all my fault…” Harry still wants to go on with his list, even though he doesn’t know what to add to that list. He just wants to apologise for everything. But he can’t, because there’s a hand on his shoulder. He stops, and a shiver runs through his muscles. 

 

“Harry?” Louis’ voice is thin, like he’d be scared to say anything. 

“Can you look at me?” He asks, and his voice forces Harry to look at him in the eyes. He thinks he’s going to see pity, or worse, that he’s sorry for Harry. That Harry has had to go through something so rough and now he’s left with deep scars. Scars that still force themselves to bleed and make him sick. 

But he doesn’t see that. There’s only concern, pure worry. 

 

“You have nothing to apologise for, Harry, do you understand that?” He asks, his face covered in shadows, even though the room is filled with sunlight. 

“I hurt you, why can’t you see that?” Harry feels anger bubbling inside him again, but it dies down immediately. Just because Louis squeezes his shoulder strongly. 

“You didn’t. I’m fine! I only got some bruises on my knees, but it’s nothing worse than taking a tumble when your shoelaces get stuck under your feet.” He shakes his head lightly, and sighs all of the air from his lungs. 

 

“I guess the others freaked you out? They were pretty dramatic, and I did wonder why they kept yelling at you for no reason.” 

“For no reason, really, Louis?” 

“They clearly don’t know what a panic attack looks like, so yes, for no reason.” He says it like there’s no big deal. Like there wouldn’t be a huge stigma around the word. Like there’d be nothing to be ashamed about or embarrassed about. 

“You have _nothing_ to be sorry about, Harry. Like I said, I could’ve said no, I could’ve told you to go home and get some rest. But I didn’t. Neither did you. I guess you thought you could get through it. We still danced, even though I saw how you zoned out and how you didn’t see me there anymore.” 

 

Words choke in Harry’s throat. He wants to say so much, but none of the words he’d like to say actually come out. He forgets them even before he can think about them. Louis is too understanding, too kind, annoyingly nice. And it makes even easier for Harry to breathe for the first time in the past couple of days. 

“I feel like I should be apologising to you, though, because I did see it. I feel guilty for letting you dance, even though I didn’t know what was going on exactly and that the whole choreo made you feel like that. I really am sor…” 

“No! You don’t get to be sorry! Not right now. Maybe it was both of our fault, maybe it was no one’s fault. It happened. I just want to know that you’re really fine? You weren’t hurt? I didn’t ruin your career?” 

 

Louis bursts out into a loud laugh. Harry stares at him, wondering if he has something on his head that’s making Louis laugh so much. If he has snot all over his face? 

“Did you really think you ruined my career?” Louis splutters between laughs, until he calms himself down when he sees Harry’s desperate face. 

“You didn’t, Harry, I’m fine. I can dance until my legs don’t work anymore,” he smiles, pulling his hand back from Harry’s shoulder. It sat there so comfortably, comforting Harry, steadying Louis while he laughed. Now Harry feels almost naked without his touch. 

 

“I think we need to make a deal,” Louis says out loud, confidence in his voice. 

“What do you mean?” 

“If either one of us feels uncomfortable in any way, we have to tell each other. If there’s something that will bother our practicing, we have to be honest about it. And I don’t mean we have to tell each other our life stories, but just let the other know there’s something going on and we can figure it out together. We need to be at our best when we’re doing this, practicing, being a duo… Everything.” He seems a little too enthusiastic about it, but it does sound like an intriguing plan. 

 

“Maybe we could come up with a code word or something!” He blinks his eyes slowly at Harry, excitement twinkling in them. 

“No,” Harry only shakes his head. This is going too far, too childish, too Sherlock Holmes-ey for his liking. 

“C’mon, live a little!” 

“I think I’ve lived through my days as a ten-year-old,” he only says and rolls his eyes. Louis swats his arm gently, mischief written all over his face. 

 

“But I think we can make a deal,” Harry says, and hides his face from Louis again. He doesn’t know why Louis is making him so shy, why he feels like he needs to hide his own smile every once in a while. 

“It’s a deal then,” Harry can see Louis’ hand ready to shake Harry’s. He holds onto it, eyeing Louis under his brow. Louis just smiles, and then gasps. 

“Ladybug,” he just sighs, happy about the code word. 

“No,” Harry lets go of Louis’ hand instantly, not agreeing to it. It’s too silly! 

“I know you like it!” Louis just laughs, and falls onto his back. 

Harry looks at him, and admits only to himself that he wouldn’t have come up with a better code word himself. 

 

Louis watches the ceiling and Harry can only wonder what Louis sees in it. If he’s thinking about something specific, if he just likes to watch how the light dances on the smooth surface, playing tag with the rays coming from the sun, chasing shadows away. 

He feels an enormous relief wash over him. How he hasn’t ruined anyone’s life, how he came here to talk. He didn’t stay at home and just assume things, like he has always done before. Maybe someday he can say that he was an asshole, that he’s not like that anymore. That he has learnt how to be nice to others without only thinking about how he’ll benefit from it.

 

“I almost forgot!” Harry remembers the plastic bag on the floor next to the chair he’s sitting on. Louis looks at him from the corner of his eye, not caring to sit back up. Until Harry is giving him the present. 

“What’s this?” 

“I just thought, if you would’ve been bed ridden, that you’d have something to take your mind off the injury.” Harry shrugs and waits for Louis’ reaction. He takes the packet into his hands and rips the paper carefully from the places where there’s tape. He unwraps the boxset, surprised to see it in his hands. 

“Thanks!” He says, surprised. 

“I don’t know if you like it, but I figured since everyone is always talking about it, so…” 

“I haven’t really followed it, too much gore for my liking,” Louis smiles and turns the box in his hands. Harry feels a little speechless. He doesn’t like it either. And it doesn’t even offend Harry, that he spent his money on something that Louis isn’t even going to watch. He just knows that Louis doesn’t like it for the same reason Harry doesn’t like it either. 

“But I know who will be extremely pleased,” Louis laughs and stands up, leaving Harry in his room. 

“Niall,” he hears Louis singsong, followed with Niall’s enthusiastic yelps. 

 

Harry knows the worms in his mind are crawling back into the jar. He doesn’t need them now, he doesn’t want them anymore. He smiles and tries breathing without feeling like it’s a chore, like it’s the hardest thing he can do in life. He also knows the same memories won’t stop haunting him, maybe they never will. 

At least they’re giving him a little time to do his own thing, though. He can gather himself, maybe start collecting the pieces that are under his feet. Start becoming someone who he can maybe like someday. 

 

Harry sees the pictures on Louis’ bookshelf. There’s a picture of him with young girls, who remind Harry of Louis so much. They have the same bone structure, noses… Maybe they’re Louis’ sisters. They’re all smiling, making Harry smile too. 

And there’s a picture of Louis with a woman, who shares the same blue eyes with Louis. It’s so comfortable, that Harry starts to miss someone’s arms around him too. And for the first time in ages, he feels like he wants to hear how his mum and sister are. 

\- - 

Sunday, 18.58. 

“ _We’ve been watching Game of Thrones the whole day, thanks to you._ ”

“ **You’re welcome!** ”

“ _Can’t you understand sarcasm?_ ”

“ **Can’t you?** ”

“ _Haha…. Niall is making me sit through this, explaining me things I don’t understand._ ”

“ **Tell him you have to practice our choreo?** ”

 

Sunday, 20.14.

“ _Thanks for the idea :)_ ”

“ **What?** ”

“ _I’ve been coming up with new parts for the dance, I can send you a video… Wait a few mins._ ”

“ **Ok** ”

 

Sunday, 22.03.

“ **We have to practice it tomorrow, I really like your ideas :)** ”

“ _I kind of told Niall we’ll show him tomorrow the choreo we have so far. After that we can practice. Okay with you?_ ”

“ **Sure, see you tomorrow.** ”

“ _See you!_ ”

\- - 

Harry isn’t the first or the last to come into the studio. But as soon as he steps in, he can feel the daggers thrown at him. He can hear whispers, and he can feel eyes on him, following his every step, expecting him to break and start raging. 

They’re waiting for the asshole to raise his head, but Harry doesn’t let them get what they want. He starts to do his warm up, soon joined by Nico who is just happy to see him. They joke, like they would on any other morning. They can’t deny how there’s a steady rumble of others, who keep calling Harry the one, who should be kicked out. 

 

“Should I say something to them, maybe I should, they need a reality check,” Nico has his hands curled into fists, his jaw tense. But Harry just places his hand on Nico’s shoulder, not saying anything. He still gets his message across. 

“Why not?” Nico looks almost like he could hit Harry for stopping him. 

“Let’s not give them what they want, let it go,” Harry keeps his voice low, not even looking at the bullies’ way. Nico relaxes after a moment, but it doesn’t stop him from giving them the stink eye. 

 

Louis walks in soon after, smiling at Harry and Nico. The others are calling him to come over, warm up with them, hang out with them. But Louis ignores them gracefully, not even looking at them, and walks straight towards Harry. 

“Morning! Are you ready to show the choreo to Niall?” He asks, after asking it at least five times over text this morning from Harry. 

After Harry saw the video Louis sent him yesterday evening, he hasn’t been able to stop thinking how they’ll do it all on stage. How they’re going to smash every new emotion to a choreo, that already feels so ready. Harry replayed the video too many times, watching Louis dance _Their Dance_ to _Their Song_. He memorised the moves Louis had come up with and came up with a few of his own. He needs to show them to Louis today. 

 

“Yeah, let’s do it,” Harry smiles, knowing that Louis has reserved one of the smaller studios for them to show Niall what they have so far. 

“Louis!” Wes exclaims before Harry has even collected his things from the floor. Louis is looking at him, listening with his brows raised. 

 

“Are you really sure you want to dance with someone, who will probably fuck you over at some point? Are you ready to break your leg the next time he drops you or maybe even runs out the door?” He smiles a sweet smile, venom in his voice. 

The other dancers are snickering in the corner, watching the scene unfolding in front of them. Harry turns to look the other way, trying to busy himself with his training gear. 

 

“I’m happy to dance with Harry. And I’d never want to hang out with a bunch of low lives, who don’t even deserve their solos or duo performances. Especially after what kind of trash they are to other people in the same group. That must be a fun addition in your resume, Wes? I bet talent seekers like to hire idiots, who can’t get their heads out of their asses,” Louis says with a joyful voice, which doesn’t fit the message of his words at all. No one says anything in a while, forcing Harry to stare at Louis and then at the small group of dancers shocked in their place. 

“Excuse us, we have better things to do other than making ourselves feel shitty and spend our lives on negativity. Toodles!” Louis waves his hands casually at the group, wishing luck to Nico who is slow clapping and smiling like an idiot. 

 

Louis is out the door maybe even too fast, making Harry run after him. Suddenly he turns around and Harry sees his crimson blushed cheeks. 

“Do you think I went overboard with the ‘toodles’?” He asks, self-aware, almost terrified. 

“No! That was funny as hell,” Harry just smiles. 

“Okay, okay… I’m just not good with confrontation,” Louis confesses, turning around but now walking slower. 

“I think you handled that pretty well.” Harry wonders if he’ll ever reach a level of confidence, where he can just say things how they are and defend the people that need to be defended. On the other hand, he can’t stop thinking how he can relate to Wes so well.

 

Harry was like that, and his words were effective and actually got people out of his way. Now, when he’s the target, he can’t understand why he did it. No wonder he has asshole written all over his forehead. He really wants to rub it off though, especially now. He doesn’t want to think he could associate himself with Wes, not anymore when he knows how much harm it can cause. 

Niall is already in the studio, ready to see the choreo. 

 

Harry doesn’t shy away this time. He gives the song his all, he breathes it in, just like Louis. He hears the beat and all of the words, and suddenly they lose their meaning. At first, he’s still dancing with Deon. He sees the golden boy in front of him, breaking boundaries with his body. Until the gold turns pale, silver. His body is different, more graceful, here, present. The body doesn’t remind Harry of Deon anymore. He doesn’t see the golden boy anymore. 

What he sees is silver. He sees the boy, who has been dancing in front of him the whole time, disguised in gold. This time he doesn’t see gold eyes, but blue eyes, blue ocean eyes. They hold him in, spin him in waves of salty water, and make him lose his own name. The song is warm skin and a burn in his spine. It’s sweet laughing and intense stares, pretending to long for someone, and making it real. 

 

He can’t feel his feet at the end, but not because he’d be terrified or panicking. No. He feels like flying, losing control, and the only person he can see is Louis. His feet carrying him around the room, his hair sticking to his forehead, and his eyes, his ocean blue eyes, that want to hold Harry under the surface for as long as Harry can hold his breath. 

At the end, they have to let go. That’s the end, the end of the choreo, the end of the song. But Harry feels his hands aching, when Louis’ skin slips away from him and leave him alone. Harry has to pretend he doesn’t want it, like he could ever have something like him. He feels like he has broken some invisible bond between them, even though there has never been one. 

 

When the song ends, Louis quickly turns away, and Niall’s voice brings Harry back to earth too. He can see Louis’ focused gaze in the mirror, how he’s deliberately avoiding Harry’s eyes. 

They perform the choreo for a few more times, bring in a prop table and a couple of chairs, starting to put together the last pieces. And every time the song starts, Harry feels like he’s living. And every time the song ends, his heart stops for a moment, just for a couple of beats, until it comes back to life and pounds wildly in his chest. 

 

It’s all in one song, and Harry can’t believe how blind he has been for the past three years. It’s not about his talent anymore, it’s not about jealousy anymore. It’s about something much scarier, and Harry doesn’t want to think about it. Put it into words. Make it a real thing. Because he knows it’d ruin everything, it’d make this duo performance crash and burn. 

In the middle of the night, when he’s alone and he knows there’s only him with his thoughts, he does play with the idea. How it’d be like, if he’d let that ocean wash him clean, make him new, and take away his fear of falling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd really love to hear what you thought after reading this chapter. I'm so nervous to post this, maybe because I'm a bit of an emotional mess and because it's a bit different compared to the first two chapters.   
> You can always talk with me here or on [tumblr](https://shadowofyoursong.tumblr.com/) :)   
> Next chapter is up next Saturday, 16.9.


	4. Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello people!   
> I've been working hard on this chapter after a rough week and I hope you'll enjoy it :) 
> 
> Some music!   
> Siri Nilsen / Jeg Vet   
> Broods / All Of Your Glory   
> Department Of Eagles / Classical Records  
> Sumie / Hunting Sky  
> OutKast / Ms. Jackson  
> The Irrepressibles / Two Men In Love   
> Daughter / Hope

Two weeks. 

It takes two weeks for Harry to realise what he's gotten himself into. First, it's just like an itch. He'd like to scratch, but he knows he's going to make it worse if he lets himself do it. It does get worse though. Every time he spends time with Louis, the itch gets stronger. On the spots where Louis’ hands lay on Harry; on his arms, on his shoulders. And when he's not with Louis, the itching feeling burns on his skin, everywhere, in every cell of his body. It lasts for a few days, and Harry thinks he's gotten rid of it. That he can now relax. 

But it turns even worse. The itching turns into a whisper. A real whisper, and what's worse, the whisper is in Louis' voice. The whispers usually come to visit during the evening, when Harry is going to sleep. When he puts the lights out and he relaxes against his mattress, the whispering begins. Even though he'd be absolutely knackered, he's woken up by the realness of Louis' voice. Just like he'd be standing next to Harry's bed, kneeling next to Harry's head, whispering things into his ear. 

 

"Harry, I really like you." That's how it always begins. It sounds so real, too real, making Harry wonder if he's right in the head. It’s something that Harry desperately wants to hear. And it's confusing and terrifying and amazing and bright and annoying and an explosion of feelings Harry hasn't felt in a long time. Or feelings he thought he couldn’t feel anymore. That he's so fucked up it's impossible for him to care for someone else like this. But here he is.

Then the next day comes. He sees Louis. He can hear his voice. They’re face to face, eyes locked when they’re dancing. That’s when Harry realises it. It’s not Louis’ voice. It’s different in real life, living in another way than in Harry’s thoughts. It’s stronger, confident, sweeping Harry off his feet. Hearing Louis talk in real life doesn’t change anything, though. The whispers are there and he has to try and push the thought of hearing them away. He has to try and forget how his imagination plays with him. 

 

Harry tries to play it cool, that he’s fine, nothing’s on his mind. But he feels like a teenager being close to his crush. That silly feeling of having butterflies in the pit of his stomach is so distinctive, that Harry has to remind himself that he’s a grown up and he’s not going to care about anything that has been happening inside his head. 

But whenever he’s practicing with Louis, just Louis, he finds himself losing some of the choreo from his memory. He’s clumsy, like he would’ve grown a meter in one night and now he has to figure out how he’s going to walk and stand and run and dance. 

Apparently, it’s funny to Louis. He snickers and he imitates Harry, laughing heartily. 

“Have you grown another leg or something?” Louis leans his hands against his knees, trying not to laugh as hard as he would. But he’s not doing a great job at it. 

“Sorry,” Harry can only say, while he staggers up from the floor. 

 

Even a simple step makes him fall, like he would’ve stepped on a banana peel. And it’s embarrassing and stupid and it’s making Harry’s cheeks heat up. Louis’ laugh just makes it worse, because it’s making Harry lose his mind a little more. 

He’d want to hear the sound more, make Louis laugh more, hear how his heart beats faster just because he’s laughing so much. Harry does his best at hiding his feelings and tries to focus on everything else. Everything else that matters, at least. That he’ll remember their choreo, follow his own form from the mirrors, dancing with Louis and not losing his balance when he has to look Louis in the eyes. 

 

He hides it all, because he knows Louis doesn’t feel the same way. He’s not feeling it now and he’s not going to feel like that in the future. Harry is pretty sure Louis has heard some things from the others in their group; what kind of a person Harry is. Or was. Or something in between. 

Even Louis has said that he can’t trust Harry completely, what could change that? Nothing, because that’s Harry. A good friend to the people he knows, but an absolute jerk to those who he doesn’t care about. And even though Harry has been nice to Louis, he can still sometimes see the doubt in Louis’ eyes. If he should be practicing with Harry five times a week, getting friendlier with him. If he should let Harry know about his future plans; about London and moving away. So, he stays quiet. He doesn’t talk about anything personal to Harry, just some general things. 

 

“Sorry, my mum is calling, I’ll be back soon.” 

“I need to practice on my own for a bit, see you later.” 

“Thanks, but I’m having lunch with some other friends.” 

“I’m in a bit of a rush, I’m meeting a friend.” 

“Yeah, the audition was good.” 

Though, Harry feels it didn’t go that well in reality. Louis didn’t come to their practice on Thursday, a week after Harry’s mini breakdown. He had his audition, which Louis had been really quiet about anyway. He didn’t want Harry to know where it is and what time. Harry just knew he’s not coming to practice, because he’s working for his future somewhere else. 

What Harry didn’t expect was seeing Louis come to the studio a bit after two in the afternoon, still a few hours of their own practice time left. He smiled at everyone, said hi to people who said hi to him. 

 

When he sat next to Harry in the studio, to watch Vin and Ezra do their duo choreo, his smile dropped. Like someone would’ve painted it on his face and he just washed it away. He watches the couple, his eyes glassy, his shoulders slumped, which isn’t normal for him. He looks like something went badly wrong in his audition, like he would’ve gotten the boot immediately. 

“How was your audition?” Harry asks after studying Louis for a good fifteen minutes. 

“Yeah, the audition was good.” And as soon as the words leave Louis’ mouth, Harry knows he’s lying. Louis doesn’t plaster on that perfect, charming smile or show any feeling in his eyes. He’s just like a ghost next to Harry, trying to get through the day. 

“Want to go practice our choreo?” Harry asks, hopeful Louis will say yes. He wants to know more. He wants to know if he could do something for Louis. That thought alone makes Harry’s skin crawl. He wants to do something for someone else, like he’d care about them a bit more than he really likes to admit. Again, he has to remind himself that he’s just friends with Louis, nothing more. Louis is nice, a good friend, a nice person, a good dancer. Nice and good. 

 

“Louis!” Nico walks towards the pair sitting on the floor and just like that the moment is gone. Louis smiles at Nico, the mask back on his face. Harry doesn’t get a new chance to ask if Louis is really fine, if his audition really went well like he said. Louis comes up with a few things for Ezra and Vin’s choreo and Niall wants him to show the pair what he’s going after. 

As soon as Niall tells everyone that they’re done for the day, Louis almost runs out the door. Harry doesn’t run after him, that would be just childish and weird. When he tries to call Louis later that evening (to ask about their practice times tomorrow and maybe because he wants to know if Louis is okay), it goes straight to voicemail. 

When Harry sees Louis the next day, every single sign of Louis being miserable is gone. He’s smiling a real smile and he’s dancing and he’s practicing his part from their choreo as planned. Like yesterday didn’t even happen. 

 

That’s when Harry knows that Louis doesn’t want to let Harry close. And he understands it. That also means that Louis has probably heard much more from other people, than Harry initially thought. He knows what kinds of things Harry did and how he hurt others. Maybe it’s for the best. Even though Harry is trying to change, has already changed a lot, he knows that Louis knows things that will keep him away. It’s only good. 

But Harry can’t seem to drop it. He’s thinking about it a lot, so much that the whispers end. He’s only thinking that Louis will never, ever, in a million years like him the way Harry might like him, just because of Harry’s past. And why is he even thinking about it?! He wants to forget the feeling he has around Louis, he wants to forget this whole phase of feeling something for the boy he’s dancing a duo with. How the whole situation reminds Harry he was that boy a few years back.

It would never work, he keeps telling himself. It can never work out between the two, it just won’t happen. 

Still it bothers Harry. So, he keeps an eye on Louis. He starts to study Louis, if he sees some changes in Louis when he’s with other people and when he’s with Harry. He wants to prove himself that he will never know Louis the way Louis’ real friends know him. 

 

“Why are you staring at Louis like he has done something bad to you?” Nico asks Harry, when they’re sitting on the floor and coming up with bits and pieces of choreography for one of the group parts. 

“What? No, I’m not,” Harry shakes his head and turns his eyes towards the notebook on the floor. 

“Harry, even the most stupid person could see how you were staring at him,” Nico rolls his eyes, drawing a star on the top corner of the page. 

“It’s nothing, I was just thinking about something…” Harry reads their notes again, trying to bring back the group choreo they saw half an hour ago. 

“You were looking at him like you could start yelling at him or like, go and kiss him or something,” Nico giggles, actually giggles, drawing a tail for the star. Harry draws lines in the text where the group needs something more. He swallows, and he wants the skin on his cheeks to at least once do as he wants. But no, it won’t, because his mind is deceiving and wants to tell Nico. Harry can hear how Nico gasps silently, his pen falling on the floor. 

 

“Either he has hurt you or you have feelings for the guy!” He says a bit too loud, a couple of people turning to look at the two. 

“Yeah, say it a bit louder, so he’ll hear what we’re talking about,” Harry knows he might look a bit too dramatic, his eyes wide and his cheeks crimson. 

“I guess it’s the latter,” Nico smiles, his hands over his mouth. He starts to laugh at Harry, every once in a while stopping and looking at Harry and then he starts to laugh again. 

“You can’t tell anyone!” Harry hisses, hoping Nico will stop. 

 

“You really like him?” Nico is still laughing, but in small gasps. Now he looks more shocked. Like he’s going to have a stroke of some sort. His eyes and mouth are wide, and he’s catching his breath between chuckles. Harry just looks away, not wanting to admit it. He can’t because he doesn’t want to believe it himself. 

“But how? When?” Nico asks, scooting a little closer to Harry so he can ask all the questions he has on his mind. 

“I don’t know, a couple of weeks back. After the drama,” Harry keeps bolding the lines he drew earlier, afraid he’s going to impale the paper. 

“A few weeks ago, you didn’t even remember his name, let alone like him!” 

“Keep it down,” Harry whisper shouts, really annoyed that he had to get caught. 

“Sorry, this is just…” Nico can’t find words, but his face says it all. He smiles, and he’s shocked and he’s confused all at the same time. 

 

“You really can’t tell anyone,” Harry warns him in a low growl, hoping this will stay just between the two. He doesn’t want this to develop in any way, it’s fine as it is. It’s easy (even though it’s not that easy for Harry) and it’s not awkward. 

Nico only lifts his hands up in the air: “My lips are sealed.”

 

Harry rolls his eyes, wanting to get back to work. His eyes drift to Louis on the other side of the room, and catches him looking. Louis turns his eyes away quickly, getting back into conversation with Stan. Harry turns his gaze back to their notebook too, putting all his energy into thinking about group choreos. 

But Louis’ face creeps into his mind, and every dancer in Harry’s imagination has Louis’ face and his body and his way of expression and the thoughts lead him to thinking about dancing alone with Louis, just the two of them, not caring about anyone else. Just him and Louis. 

 

\- -

 

It's the fourth week after starting to work with Louis. Two weeks before their Christmas holiday begins. Four agonising weeks for Harry, after realising that he has developed a crush on Louis. The boy who he didn’t like at first and didn’t want to work with at first and who he thought was naïve. And the feelings hit him like a bag of bricks. 

He has been wondering if his crush is because of the talk they had after Harry’s panic attack. Just having someone understand him in some deeper way, than just seeing the Harry he wants everyone to see, made him think that Louis is somehow… Special. Harry had to be vulnerable and Louis was there and Harry was like a duckling imprinting on Louis because his duck family wasn’t there. Louis was like the first living being he saw and thought “this is the person I have to be with to survive”. 

 

Harry just stays silent about it all. He doesn’t talk with Nico about it, he certainly doesn’t talk to Louis about it. He doesn’t want to admit anything to himself. He just is. Even though Nico likes to tease him with stupid comments in front of Louis. 

“So, Harry, have you been on any dates recently?” Nico asks boldly, right when Louis is next to them packing his training bag. Harry feels his eyes widening, his breath catching in his throat. He doesn’t say anything, just stares at Nico, and then Louis is on his way out the door. Nico just laughs, when Harry punches his arm. 

 

Another day, another time. They’re having snacks on the studio floor, brainstorming for the group choreo. 

“Louis, who would you dance with if you wouldn’t have Harry as your partner?” Nico askes him, but Louis just smiles and keeps on eating, his thoughts in the dance. 

“I don’t have to ask Harry, because I know who he’d want to have as his partner in more ways than one.” Nico has a mischievous smirk on his face and he’s winking at Harry. Of course, Harry almost chokes on his water. He tries not to splutter anything out from his mouth. Nico laughs his obnoxious laugh and Harry steals his apple slices, like that would somehow fix the embarrassment he’s feeling. 

 

“Stop it,” Harry warns him with a serious voice, when Louis stands up and goes to talk with Niall about something. 

“Okay, relax,” Nico just rolls his eyes. 

“You have to understand, it’s not going to happen. I know it!” 

“Okay, okay, I won’t say anything else.” 

 

After that, Nico hasn’t said anything. Harry’s just happy he hasn’t, because Louis has gotten somehow weird. He’s more professional than before, if he can put it that way. He talks to Harry only about their choreo and he doesn’t text Harry about anything. No texts after those two weeks. 

Even when they’re dancing, he doesn’t laugh anymore if Harry messes up some steps. He just stops and starts the whole dance again, until it’s perfect. 

 

Harry keeps thinking if he has done something wrong. If he has said something, come too close to Louis in some way. Of course, Louis could’ve somehow expressed his feelings, but he hasn’t. So, Harry only wonders if there’s something he’s not telling and if Harry has really hurt him in some way. 

At the same time Harry sees Louis’ face everywhere. When he’s out buying groceries, Louis is the boy behind the till. He’s the guy in the library, who is putting books in the shelf. He’s the guy who walks his dog every day at seven pm sharp. He’s the guy who almost runs into Harry on the street, when he’s reading something on his phone. He’s the guy sitting on a bench in Central Park. 

Louis is everywhere. And every time Harry feels his heart picking its pace, telling Harry to be happy. Then he realises it’s not really Louis. That he’s alone, and Louis is angry about something. Harry thinks he’s losing control over himself. That his heart is saying too much to him, telling him how to be. At the same time, he hates it and he likes it. 

What bothers him is the question _why_. Why now? Why Louis? Why does he feel this way? Why does he keep acting like they’re just two dancers? Why can’t he admit that Louis is someone who he wants in his life? 

Why is Louis angry? 

 

\- -

 

_“Is Liam here?” Louis whispers, his arms around Harry’s neck, his mouth against Harry’s ear. It’s dark, though Harry can see Louis in the faint light that’s coming in through their living room windows. They’re leaning against the wall, like Harry would protect Louis from every bad thing in this world._

_“No, he would’ve put the lights on,” Harry whispers too, not wanting to break this perfect moment. He can feel Louis’ lips against his neck. It’s a light touch but still there. Harry just smiles, because he never thought he could have this. Have Louis against him in his arms, knowing that he hasn’t been alone with his feelings. That Louis feels the same way._

_“Where’s your room?” Louis’ lips are against Harry’s collarbone, his fingers tugging the hairs at the nape of Harry’s neck._

_Suddenly Louis is watching him, his hands brushing Harry’s growing hair away from his eyes. He looks dreamy, happy, the softest smile on his face that Harry has ever seen on anyone’s face._

_“You’re not going to tell me?” He asks, not whispering anymore, but still gently._

_“Do I have to go look for it?” His smile grows and suddenly he’s out of Harry’s arms, briskly walking towards the toilet door._

_“This one?” He opens the door and puts the light on._

_“Nope!” He just laughs, and closes the door. He tilts his head at Harry, pointing at the door to Liam’s room._

_“That one?” Harry shakes his head, and nods at the door farthest from Liam’s._

_“Oooh, it’s that one,” Louis sounds so happy and comfortable that it makes butterflies fly wildly in Harry’s stomach. He makes his way towards Harry’s room, Harry following him a few steps behind. He walks straight into Harry’s room and doesn’t put on any lights._

_Harry almost does, but Louis pulls his hand away from the switch. He closes the door and brings Harry into his arms. His eyes are bright and his arms are tight around Harry._

_“I really like you,” he just says, before he’s kissing Harry again, desperately wanting Harry close._

 

Harry wakes up sweaty, panting, for a moment confused where he is. He’s leaning against his elbows, realising that it was a dream. Just a dream. It’s almost seven in the morning, just before his alarm will go off. 

He falls back against his mattress, pushing his damp hair from his forehead. He can’t with this anymore. It’s not like he wouldn’t have had dreams about Louis before, but they’ve all been about them dancing and practicing, just spending time with Louis. This is the first, when Harry actually dreams about having sex with him. 

Harry covers his face with his hands, blowing out air from his lungs. 

 

He was dreading this to happen and now that it has happened, he can’t be more embarrassed. He hopes he didn’t talk in his sleep or keep any sounds. Because the dream isn’t the only problem right now. He has to take care of himself before he can leave this bed. And he has to come up with things to think about, so he won’t have the same problem in front of people. In front of Louis. 

There’s also a third thing he thinks about. Because this can’t go on. Having so weirdly sweet dreams of Louis feels more like a nightmare, than a funny thing. 

 

In the shower, when he’s washing away the sweat and the dream and the remains of it, he makes a decision. Something he has been thinking about for a few days now. He can’t take the coldness from Louis anymore, without having no reason for it. He has to get rid of his thoughts about Louis, or he won’t be able to dance the duo. 

He has to talk with Louis. Be honest with him, ask him what’s wrong. He’s thinking about telling Louis about his feelings, but that would be too much. And it’d be too weird and surprising and he doesn’t want Louis to think that Harry is feeling this way because Louis is so nice. Well, he hasn’t been nice for a few days, but still. They need to talk. 

Even though everything’d be awkward at first, he still has to. He has to get it out there, the questions he has for Louis. Why he’s so annoyed all the time? If there’s something Harry has done? 

Maybe it’ll help him get rid of his clumsiness, too, or at least he hopes so. When he’ll talk with Louis, he’ll be free again and maybe it’ll be easier and then Harry can stop with this nonsense of feeling something for the boy. 

And mostly he’s doing it for his heart. Because it can’t be so close to Louis anymore, not when he thinks he has done something wrong. Not, when he thinks he has hurt Louis. Not, when he thinks he has some feelings for Louis. Because he doesn’t! It’s just some obsession he has because Louis used to be so nice to him. Maybe they can just agree that they’re going to do the duo, practice as much as they need, and then let go. Just forget everything. No more getting to know each other or getting closer or being some sort of friends. Just two people, being professional and doing their best. 

Harry at least hopes it’ll change everything, help him get through it. Help him pour water over his feelings to make them die down. 

 

\- -

 

“Can’t you focus!?” Louis yells, pacing back and forth. For some reason he’s really on the edge today, has been from the moment he came into the studio this morning. He wasn’t in yesterday, so Harry rehearsed the group choreo with others, but today he’s supposed to practice with Louis alone. 

They’re using a smaller studio and they’ve been dancing for a couple of hours already. They’re putting together the whole choreo, perfecting it, making sure they can concentrate on the group choreos. After Christmas holiday, they won’t be rehearsing their duo other than a few times a week, compared to the schedule they’re working on now. They’ve been dancing, just the two of them, a few hours every day. 

 

Now, Louis is just losing it. He’s replaying the song over and over, starting the choreo from the beginning every time. Harry knows he’s messing up something, but Louis isn’t saying what it is. He just stops, and immediately Harry knows that he did something wrong. He’s trying to find some answers from his own movements, trying to find the reason for the restarts every time. He repeats his own steps, watches himself in the mirror, and every time he looks like he’s doing everything right. 

“Can’t you just tell me what I’m doing wrong so I can fix it?” Harry asks, a bit too snarky, making Louis look at him even angrier. 

“Can’t you see it yourself?” He just asks, spreading his hands out, like it’d be the most obvious thing in the world. 

“No, because you’re not telling me what I’m doing wrong and you think I’m doing something wrong, so tell me!” Harry says too loudly, too angry, Louis’ bad mood catching him. 

“Fine!” Louis plays the song again, this time he doesn’t start right away though. He waits for the song to get to the part, where they’re struggling. 

 

He starts, Harry following, doing everything he’s supposed to. Louis moves perfectly, but Harry can see how agitated he is. He’s not as graceful as he has been, but his precision is still impeccable. Suddenly he stops and his flaming eyes turn to Harry. 

“There, can’t you see it?” He asks, pointing at Harry’s feet. 

“What?” 

“Your feet are turned to the wrong direction. If they’d be turned the other way, it’d be easier for you to continue the choreo and I wouldn’t have to worry about stepping on your toes!” He huffs, and turns away. Harry is looking at his feet, seeing that they’re turned maybe a bit inside, but it hasn’t bothered him and it hasn’t bothered Louis before either. He never complained about Harry’s feet and he never seemed to really care how they’re placed against the floor. But maybe he has a point. 

 

“Okay, thank you,” Harry says quieter, doing the steps a few times, making sure his feet are not doing something he’s not aware of. 

“Let’s do it again,” Louis sighs and starts the song. This time he doesn’t make them stop so Harry thinks he did it right. He’s so focused on the choreo and how his body looks in the mirror and how he’s executing every move, he forgets to look Louis in the eyes at one point. 

 

“Damn you, Harry!” 

“Sorry! I’m doing my best here!” Harry can’t really believe how angry Louis is right now. It feels like he’s dancing with a storm cloud and it keeps following him whatever he does. 

“Your best isn’t enough! It has to be perfect so we don’t have to worry about it after holidays!” Louis turns away from him and leans against his knees. He hangs his head and tries to breathe calmly. It reminds Harry of the times when Louis was laughing hard and he tried to catch his breath. He just kept laughing at how Harry had clumsily stepped on his own toes or swung his arm in the air even though he wasn’t supposed to. This time his whole body radiates negative energy, how fed up he is. 

Then Louis is up again, repeating the song. 

 

This time Harry doesn’t look at himself in the mirror. His eyes are on Louis, even though it feels like Louis is under his skin. He grabs Louis maybe a bit too tightly and too roughly, but it seems to drive Louis dance even more electrically. His eyes are blazing and his touch is hot against Harry’s skin. Harry is struggling to breathe, find his lungs and take air in. Because everything around him is just Louis. 

The dream comes back from yesterday. The one, where Louis was the sweetest and now he’s the cruellest. Harry can feel Louis’ arms around him. He can feel Louis’ lips against Harry’s collarbone. He can feel his brain working on overdrive. His every sense is hyphened. Everything’s too much and too loud and too close and too hot and too sweet and the air around him is unbearably stuffy. 

 

Louis runs towards him, jumps up in the air and he closes his eyes waiting for Harry to drop him. Harry doesn’t drop him. He catches Louis with a gasp and Louis’ eyes open. He’s breathing heavily and he looks like he’s going to cry. Harry doesn’t move for one second and it’s too long. Louis entangles himself from Harry’s arms and backs away, his eyes fierce and his hands in fists. 

“You can’t stop!” He yells, raking his fingers through his hair. He goes back to the stereo, about to restart the song again. He stops it and silence falls into the studio. 

 

“Ladybug, for fucks sake!” Harry yells back, his heart hammering and his chest heaving. He doesn’t know why he’s so worked up, if he’s going to have a heart attack or what. 

“What?” 

“This has to stop! You can’t just yell at me and assume that I’m fine with it! What’s wrong with you, what have I done?!” Harry feels like he’s stuck to the floor, his feet rooting to the surface. He’s looking at Louis, straight into his eyes and he’s trying to read what Louis is thinking. But he can’t. Louis is like a stranger. He’s trying to breathe through his nose, but his mouth involuntarily opens. He swallows and Harry can hear it to the other side of the room. 

 

“What’s wrong with you?” Harry repeats, not yelling anymore, but still a bit too loud. Louis turns his eyes away and evens his breathing. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” he just says, his voice empty. 

“I don’t believe you. There has to be a reason why you’re so angry at me all the time,” Harry feels his feet moving. He takes only a few steps forward, before he stops like he would’ve hit a wall. 

“There’s nothing wrong, let’s just keep going.” He’s still not facing Harry, rather hiding from him. Harry shakes his head, not buying it. 

Louis is about to turn the music back on, but Harry rushes to his side and grabs Louis’ wrist. Louis eyes snap up to meet Harry’s and Harry has never seen Louis like this. Not angry or annoyed, not happy either, more sad or perplexed or something that makes Harry take his own hand back. Like Louis would’ve warned him to not touch him. 

 

“Let’s take a break,” Harry just says and walks away, to the other side of the studio. 

He sits on the floor, bending his knees up and leaning his elbows to them. Louis stands still for a moment, before he sits down too, against the mirrors on the other side. He’s facing Harry, but not looking him in the eyes. 

 

Harry can feel it. The words that he’d like to say to Louis. How he doesn’t understand what’s happening. How he needs to hear Louis talk, let Harry know what he has done wrong. 

There’s also some other words. _I like you so much. Really like you. And I don’t know why I feel this way, but I do and I’m sorry that I do and I don’t want it to disturb our practice even though I know it will but I just have to tell you and get through it and just forget it and…_

 

“I really like you,” Harry hears himself say and he closes his eyes when he realises what he has done. He doesn’t dare to look at Louis, not even open his eyes. He’s staring at the darkness behind his eyes, not sure if Louis is still even there. He’s so quiet. He can’t even hear Louis breathing. Just silence. 

“Did you hear…” 

“Shut up, Harry!” Louis yells, and Harry does. They sit in silence, against the cool floor and Harry doesn’t know why he did it. Why his mouth betrayed him. Why he had to do it? He’ll never forget this, never, because this is his worst nightmare. Not even the dreams about Louis reach this level of embarrassment. 

 

“What do you mean you like me?” Louis asks with a faint voice. Harry peeks his eyes open, searching for Louis. He looks like he has tears in his eyes, but at the same time he looks defiant and almost scared of what Harry will say. 

“That I like you, in, you know, in a more-than-friends-way,” Harry can’t look away now. He has to face this, because he brought it up. Louis is silent again, sitting still, like he’s made of wax. Then he breathes and Harry knows Louis didn’t turn into a lifeless doll. 

 

“Where is this coming from?”

“I don’t know…” 

“You can’t say you don’t know right now. You have to tell me, because I think you do know,” Louis pressures Harry to answer. And Harry knows Louis will see through him, because he does. He knows when Harry isn’t saying something and he knows when Harry is telling lies and he knows when Harry is hiding. 

 

“I think… Or, I feel like it was after I came to see you and you understood me and…” Harry feels like he has to squeeze the words out of his body, and he’s sounding suffocated doing so.

“That doesn’t mean I care about you that way. I was being nice to you,” Louis points out, and his face is hard and the lights in the studio make his cheekbones look sharp and his jaw like he could cut someone with it. 

“I know…” 

 

“Harry, no you don’t! I’m always nice! And I think you’re a nice person too, when I got to know you a bit better, even after what people told me about you. But if I’m being nice, it still doesn’t mean that this will lead to something more. Just because I helped you or understood you, doesn’t mean I’m interested in you.” So, he has heard something. Harry doesn’t even want to know what others have told him, how they’ve made Harry to be. 

Louis’ words make Harry ashamed of himself. How he has been imagining things and how he has been enjoying his time with Louis, hear his laugh or just talking with him even though it hasn’t been about anything important. 

He doesn’t even know Louis, he can only guess what he’s like and where he’s coming from. And every time there’s a new clue of what kind of a person Louis really is, Harry always has to wreck that old image and build a new one. 

 

He’s ashamed he told Louis, that his mouth and brain worked on different levels and he made it even worse. He can say goodbye to the duo right about now. Because it will not happen. Nothing will happen. 

Harry can hear a light gasp and Louis is looking at him in a new way, a bit incredulous if Harry is reading him at least somewhat right. 

“Did you…” Louis scratches his head slowly, his eyes drifting away for a few seconds, until they’re back on Harry. 

“Do you think you can fix things in yourself if you’re with me? Is that what this is about? Do you think I’m some sort of a ‘thing’ sent out for you to make yourself okay?” 

“What! No!” Harry yells as soon as Louis finishes his sentence. 

 

“It seems like it?” 

“No, it’s not like that.” 

“Harry, what is it then? You didn’t like me when we first got paired up, you didn’t like me at all. And now you have a thing for me? Do you even know how ridiculous that sounds like?” 

“Yeah, I do know that, and that’s why this is so weird and I’m sorry and…” Louis turns to look the other way. 

 

“If you think I can save you, you need a reality check. You need to save yourself.” He just says, standing up. 

He doesn’t look at Harry anymore, just packs his things into his bag and then swings it on his shoulder. 

Harry can’t say anything, he’s empty. There’s nothing to say. Just embarrassment and hopelessness and overall feeling of being stupid and sorry and unfair. He’s an unfair person, only thinking about himself. 

 

“I think we’re done here,” Louis just says, before he’s out the door. He just leaves, like it’d all be forgotten that way. But Louis doesn’t leave with that mindset. It’s more like he’s angry and confused by it all. And Harry is too. He stays in the studio, sitting on the floor, thinking through the words Louis said. 

What if Harry really thought Louis could save him somehow. That him being nice was a sign for Harry’s brain to think he’s being nice because he will be the one to make Harry fine again. That he will get through his past and ugly memories by Louis being there. 

 

It disgusts Harry to even think that way. And it’s good Louis said it out loud. Maybe this was the push for Harry to get rid of this obsession he has for Louis. Now he can move on and forget it ever happened and he can do whatever he wants. It’s over, like he knew it’d be. It’s over before anything even started. He would’ve been out of his mind if he thought Louis would just jumped into his arms and kiss him in delight. 

Because it will never happen. It was just a sick obsession and now Harry can move forward. 

 

\- -

 

_Man number one._

Harry wonders if he should be doing this at all. Have some stranger in his bed, sleeping next to him, tired and dreaming about something that makes him sigh long and deep. Harry listens to him, not able to sleep. What happened earlier today is on his mind, taking over his thoughts and keeping him awake in the darkest moment of the night. 

Is he truly obsessed with Louis? Is Louis something that has made Harry think he could be a “cure” for something? Does he see Louis in a way that would only benefit him? Is this Harry’s own unconscious being an idiot and convincing Harry that Louis is a tool for him to be fine? 

Or did he actually care for Louis? Does care for Louis? 

The man rolls over, his face towards Harry. Harry stares at him, tries to observe his features and find something that will not make Harry start screaming at the man to get out of his bed. He can’t find anything and he doesn’t start to scream. 

The man has dark hair, quite short, but not too short. He smells good, and his skin is smooth. He’s warm next to Harry, almost like a heater. 

Louis has nicer hair than this man. It’s thicker. He smells like fruits and New York and dancing. His skin is like silk, Harry imagines. He’s hot all the time, he’d burn Harry’s skin if he’d be here. 

 

Harry gets up carefully, not wanting to wake the guy up. He writes a post-it note to him in the light that comes in through his window. 

_I’m already out, thanks for the night._

He sneaks out of the room and into Liam’s empty one. Liam has already left back home for Christmas. he asked Harry if he’s going to go home and Harry answered: “I don’t know yet, I guess I will.” He does know and he’s not going. Liam left with a long hug draped over Harry, leaving a smile on Harry’s face. 

 

Liam’s bed is cold, fresh sheets in place. _I have to wash these before Liam comes back_ , Harry thinks, his head heavy against the soft pillow. 

He just can’t close his eyes. The only thing he can see in the dark is Louis. And the only thing he can see when he closes his eyes is Louis leaving. He has to stop. This has to stop, right now. He can’t think about Louis anymore, it’s not healthy. He doesn’t really care about Louis. 

Louis is an idiot. He’s too ambitious and wants things that you can’t just have. He’s not a realist, he’s a dreamer. And he’s stupid for wanting to go back to London and younger than Harry and he’s not even that good looking. He has lame jokes and he doesn’t talk with Harry about anything that matters and he doesn’t care about Harry. 

But. 

Harry does care about Louis. He’s not an idiot, he’s brilliant in everything he does. He wants things he thinks are good for himself and he does everything he can to get those things. Harry is a realist, but he has found himself dreaming more, and it’s fun. Louis wants to be close to his family, that Harry can never admit to himself. He’s younger, but he’s smart, even smarter than Harry. He’s beautiful and sexy and he’s burning… He tells lame jokes sometimes, but they make Harry laugh the way Harry hasn’t laughed in so long! He doesn’t talk with Harry about things that matter, because Harry doesn’t talk about those things with Louis and sometimes Louis is just protecting himself.

There’s just one thing, that is correct. Louis doesn’t care about Harry. 

Harry tries to protect himself from the reality, from the truth, with the duvet. But it makes hot tears run down his cheeks. 

 

\- -

 

_Man number two._

He’s putting on his clothes. Harry is staring at his back, Harry’s arms over his duvet like he’d be in a hospital bed. The man has a muscly back, his dark skin lovely and soft. His white shirt is in perfect contrast with his complexion and Harry smiles to himself. The man has darker skin than Deon, but for some reason Harry finds himself imagining it’s Deon sitting on the edge of his bed. 

The man puts on his underwear next, jeans and socks. Then shoes. His face is a little shiny after spending a couple of hours in Harry’s room. He’s checking he has his keys and wallet and phone and then he looks at Harry. 

“Thanks, I had fun,” he has a low voice, smooth and nice and his smile is friendly.

“Me too.” Harry almost says, ‘see you’, but stops himself. Why would he meet this man again, when this was just a one night thing? 

“Okay, well, goodnight,” the man says and waves his hand awkwardly and then he’s out the door. He closes it and Harry listens to his steps. The front door opens. Closes. And Harry is alone again. 

 

He hasn’t been to practice for two days. Tomorrow he should go. But he knows he’s not going. Next week is crucial, they’re going to have their last practice before the holidays. And he has to be there. He should’ve been there every day, when they have practice. He can’t afford to lose any practice time, just because the spring season is so close. 

But he can’t make himself go. He’s always at the door, with his shoes on, with his jacket on, and he stares at the door. And he can’t open it. He takes off his shoes, his jacket, and goes back to bed. He sleeps until he checks the time and he knows their rehearsals have started. 

He practices at home; pushes their couch against the living room wall and makes as much room for himself as he can. He brings in a full body mirror from his room and checks his figure in the reflection. He practices until he has to stop to eat, and then he practices some more. 

He’s already planning what he’ll do tomorrow, what he has to rehearse. He has to do their duo choreo, and he has to perfect his group performance choreo. He knows it’s not really practicing when he’s at home, alone, no one saying if he’s doing something wrong. 

What makes him the happiest is when he stops with the choreos. He stops and finds songs that he loves. And lets them take over. He just dances, not caring what he actually does. How his hands are moving, which way his feet are going, how his shoulders are. 

 

In the isolation of his room, he tries to sleep. He finds the courage to close his eyes. And there he is, Louis, like he’d be real. Harry knows he’s avoiding Louis, avoiding everything that reminds him of Louis. Every time he hears _Their Song_ , his chest clenches and his skin burns, but he keeps on going. And now, when there’s nothing that could remind Harry of Louis, everything does. 

His training bag in the corner. His own skin, because Louis’ hands were against is. His mind because Louis is there all the time. 

_He doesn’t care about you_ , Harry tries to remind himself. And for a moment he believes himself. He doesn’t care about Louis either, not really. Why would he, when he’s here meeting random people, letting them close like he’d want Louis to be close. 

Louis is not the one Harry is with. He’s far away from Harry’s apartment, from his room. It’s better this way. When he eventually will go back, he will not talk with Louis other than when it’s necessary. He has to distance himself from this all, from his thoughts, from the obsession. It’ll be fine. 

 

Still, Harry finds himself looking at Louis’ profile picture on the messaging app. He’s half smiling, half just staring into the camera, his hair shining and Harry can almost see him moving in the photo. His heart hammers and his hands shake. His head is screaming, while Louis is perfectly still, looking at Harry. He feels tears in his eyes, not allowing them to spill. He deletes the conversation, then he deletes Louis’ contact. 

The emptiness of losing Louis fills him. _I’m just obsessed_ , he tells himself. Louis was just being nice. Though, if Harry would like people just because they’re nice, he probably would be married to Liam already. 

So, it can’t be just that, not because Louis is nice. And Harry rakes his thoughts, putting puzzle pieces, that don’t fit, together. He’s trying to explain it all with obsession, that Louis is just Louis and he has never had someone like Louis in his life. 

 

And the tears spill. And they’re heavy, rolling down towards his ears and they drown him. Because it’s not obsession. And it’s not because Louis is nice. But because he’s light. Talent. Smiling. Laughing. Openness. Caring. Everything Harry wants in someone. He’s attractive in so many ways that it hurts. And Harry can still feel Louis’ hands on his skin, where they last were. On his shoulders, when Harry was supposed to look him in the eyes. And he wasn’t. And he misses those eyes, that see everything, and they look at Harry differently from everyone else. 

 

Harry doesn’t care it’s almost two in the morning, when he calls man number three. 

 

\- -

 

Niall is listening to Harry, his arms crossed in front of his chest. He nods every time Harry stops talking, trying to find an explanation why he hasn’t been practicing with the rest of the group, with Louis, for a week. Why he’s at the studio on the last day before their Christmas holiday begins. He says something about being tired and not sleeping well and being stressed and unable to focus on anything. And every time when Niall nods, Harry knows that Niall believes him less and less. 

“It has just been hard,” Harry slowly shakes his head, wanting to yell the right words out. But he can’t because it’s stupid, he’s stupid. 

“And you think it has been easy for Louis to practice alone, when you’re doing a duo?” Niall raises his brows. Harry can’t look him in the eyes, when he knows that it’s the truth. It’d be easier, if they’d just quit. Why keep going, when they can’t work together. When Harry can’t stop thinking about all the things he’d do with Louis, if they’d be together. 

“I know it hasn’t been easy.” 

 

“Harry, listen… There’s a reason why I paired you. And the most cowardly act is to quit. You have a great choreo, it will be the highlight of the whole program. And I think you don’t understand why I’m pushing you two to work together.” He pats Harry’s shoulder, like back when Louis and Harry asked if they wouldn’t have to work together. It seems like an infinity has been between that and this moment. The moment when Harry still thought less of Louis, and this when his whole body is bursting with attraction for Louis. 

And he knows why they got paired together. Harry has something Louis doesn’t and Louis has something Harry doesn’t. They’re good for each other in that way, they just make it work when it comes to technique. 

 

“Give it a shot, one last time, and I know you’ll both be happy,” Niall smiles wide, almost a creepy smile. Harry just nods, nerves taking over him once again. Even coming here this morning was a struggle, he was still thinking about turning around and going back home when he was behind the studio door. 

Luckily no one else was in there, apart from Niall. 

“Warm up, I’m sure others will come here soon.” Niall gives Harry one final pat on the shoulder and then he’s doing his own thing, reading some papers and writing something down. He listens to music through the sound system, the songs they’ll dance to. And there it is, _Their Song_. Niall plays it a bit longer than the others, but then switches to the next one. 

 

The studio starts to fill up, first with Wes, who still has his head high and proudness on his shoulders. He doesn’t greet Harry, only Niall. After him the others just flow in, in small groups. They fill the space with conversations and laughter and weird looks thrown at Harry. 

“Well, hello stranger,” Nico smiles when he sees Harry and Harry smiles back, genuinely happy to see his friend. He has missed Nico, everything he says and his easiness. 

“Where have you been?” 

“I was sick,” Harry doesn’t even pretend how his words sound like a lie. They are a lie. And if he was to explain what he had, he’d have to say, “heartbreak”. 

“Really?” Nico rolls his eyes, and gives Harry a hard look.

“Just a lot on my plate,” Harry tells him, and this time Nico is more pleased. 

“Does this plate include the other half of your duo?” Nico’s voice is lower, quieter, and Harry couldn’t be more grateful. Harry just nods and dreads the moment when the other half will arrive. Or then maybe he won’t. Though Harry doubts it. Louis doesn’t seem like a person, who would miss the most important practice they’re going to have so far. 

 

Just at that moment the door opens and Louis walks in. His cheeks are flushed and his hair has been captured by wind. He looks tired, and he looks at everyone in the studio. For a moment he looks disappointed, until his eyes land on Harry. 

Louis’ eyes come to life with a blaze that’s only anger. Harry wonders if he should nod or mouth _hey_ or do some other gesture. But he doesn’t have time. Louis walks swiftly towards him, breathing hard. 

“You idiot! Why haven’t you been here!? You’re such an asshole, Harry!” He yells, and everyone are looking at Louis, and then at Harry. They’re snickering and probably they all think Harry deserves it. Even though Harry is quite used to the nickname, hearing Louis say it hurts a bit more. 

Louis shakes his head and walks away, his feet heavy against the floor. He doesn’t spare Harry any other looks, just starts his warm up and pretends like Harry doesn’t even exist. 

 

Nico tries to get Harry’s mind off it. He talks about what they’ve been doing and how their rehearsals have gone. He leaves Louis out from his words, and Harry doesn’t know if it’s a conscious choice or not. 

“Okay guys! Let’s begin! First, we’re going to do a run through of the group choreos. If you have a solo or a duo part, you can go to one of the smaller studios and practice there.” Niall explains, happier than Harry has seen him in a while. Maybe he’s looking forward to the holidays as excitedly as anyone else in this group. 

 

Louis is in the first group. Harry watches them all, but his eyes keep finding Louis and he can’t stop admiring his dancing. Louis is in his own world, dancing like this will be the last day he’s ever going to dance. He’s more talented than the others and he’s the brightest dancer of them all. The others are just shadows, and then there’s Louis, who is blinding. 

They all clap and the other group starts to dance right away. Harry will be in the next one, and he feels his nerves building in his muscles. He watches the small group dance, not really seeing anything. He’s breathing carefully, counting seconds for his inhales and exhales. Suddenly the second group is ready and he’s getting on his feet and ready to dance. 

 

The music starts and he feels like he goes deaf and blind for a fraction of a second. Everything comes back like an explosion, every colour and sound and sense of feeling something. He sees Louis staring, his face blank. 

Harry dances and he breathes and he follows everyone else. He can feel his memory taking over, when he thinks he’s going to forget the next step. He does what he has learnt, how he practiced at home. He sees himself in the mirror, and he sees himself floating across the floor. Small drops of sweat trickle down his skin and it glistens in the harsh lights. 

The song ends before Harry feels it’s supposed to. But then he realises there’s no more steps to be danced. Everyone clap and the next group stands up. 

 

Louis walks out the door, and Harry knows he has to follow. Louis doesn’t wait for Harry, he only sees Louis’ back going into one of the empty studios. Harry jogs the last few meters, and then he’s alone with Louis. The door closes and Harry feels how every hair on his body stands up. It’s chilly in the room, and there’s only a few sounds. His own breathing. Louis’ breathing. His heavy footsteps against the floor. The sound of Harry’s bag dropping on the floor. Louis gives him a look, and Harry takes his place. 

The table is there, and the two chairs. He sits in one. Louis puts on the song and runs to his chair. The first melodies fill the room and it begins. _Their Dance_. Harry feels Louis’ hands against his skin and it’s like a sudden death by electrocution. This time though, Harry is more than alive. He’s breathing and he hasn’t felt air in his lungs like this ever before. 

 

Louis’ eyes are dark, the deepest of blues. Harry tries not to forget himself in them, and his head saves him every time. The choreography is deep in his bones and his muscles. He doesn’t have to think what he’s doing, he’s just dancing. Like this would be the time, when he doesn’t care what he’s doing. He’s just dancing because it comes from inside, comfortably and without thinking. He feels like he’s not even out of breath, even though he’s pushing himself to the limit. 

Louis is the best Harry has ever seen him. Even the group choreo doesn’t compare to this, because Louis is just every superlative Harry can remember. He’s everything. Harry makes sure he’s looking Louis in the eyes the whole time, that he’s doing everything he’s supposed to. And even though Louis is showing emotions, that aren’t positive, and he could point out the smallest mistakes, he’s not stopping their routine. It goes perfectly. They’ve perfected it. 

And for a moment Harry thinks it’s fine. 

 

Until the last time Louis jumps and Harry has to catch him. He does. His arms tight. And Louis face is so close to Harry’s that Harry breathes the same air Louis has already used. Louis’ arms are holding onto Harry, burning holes into his skin. 

Harry opens his eyes and Louis’ swallow him whole. Before his lips are against Harry’s. Paralysing him, making Harry forget where he is and what he’s doing. His arms lose their touch around Louis, like he wouldn’t have arms at all. He can’t feel his legs either. He can only feel his torso, which Louis is holding tightly in his arms and between his legs. His grip on Harry keeps Harry here, not forgetting who he is. He’s on fire and he doesn’t mind, because he hasn’t felt this kind of burn before. 

 

He takes it, the roughness of Louis’ kiss, that cuts through Harry’s bones. He can’t believe it. He can’t sense it, even though he feels everything. He can even feel Louis’ eyelashes against his own cheeks. But he can’t register it, he forgets everything right as it has happened. Nothing is happening now, even though it all happens right at this moment. 

He doesn’t know how long they’re kissing, how long Louis is holding onto him like Harry would be his only life line. Like the floor would be lava, and he can save himself only by kissing Harry the way he does. Like he wouldn’t be able to breathe without this moment. 

 

Louis’ lips leave Harry’s. His forehead rests against Harry’s and he’s breathing hard. His legs slowly let go, then his arms. Harry doesn’t want to open his eyes, he just wants to feel Louis around him. 

Their foreheads are still attached, when Louis stands on his own two feet and his arms fall from Harry’s neck to his chest. He holds them there for a moment, that feels like a small forever. Harry realises he’s holding Louis’ waist between his palms. 

Harry dares to open his eyes, and he comes to the surface. He gasps lightly, their foreheads parting. Louis steps back slowly, his eyes wide, his hair wild, his mouth open. Harry’s hands stay there, open for Louis to come back. But he doesn’t. Louis’ eyes look damp, his lashes look damp. His skin is blushing, he’s someone else. 

He backs away, stops the music and takes his stuff. The whole time he’s looking at Harry, not able to stop. 

 

“I have to go,” he whispers, until he runs out the door. Harry stands there, trying to breathe. Like Louis would’ve taken Harry’s lungs with him. 

 

\- - 

 

Louis doesn’t know how fast he runs, but at one moment he’s in the studio and now he’s in his room, panting and trying to understand what just happened. 

What he did. 

Why he did it. 

How this was almost like a plan. How he knew Niall would pair him with Harry, just to tease Louis, even though he asked Niall not to. Because he knew about Louis’ crush and he always liked to tease him about it. He knew all along. He wonders if Niall knew this would happen. 

And Louis knows he made a mistake, just because he knows what Harry is like. He fucks people over. And Louis is going to be the next one. 

He feels hot tears falling from his eyes, his head heavy. He tries to calm his flying heart, but it doesn’t stop fluttering. He takes his things, packs the rest of the stuff he needs. 

He leaves, hoping he won’t run into anyone he knows on his way to the airport. 

 

\- - 

 

Harry should’ve left earlier, he knows it. He shouldn’t have stayed there, in the studio. Or he shouldn’t have run into the studio where the rest of the group was. He was just wasting his time.

His feet lead him behind the door, where he stood a few weeks ago. And he hopes Louis is there. He knocks. Knocks again. Bangs his fist against the door. Until it opens. 

 

The guy, who looks bored, opens the door. He looks at Harry with narrow eyes, until something clicks and his brows slowly rise. 

“Is Louis here?” Harry asks, breathing heavily, knowing that he’s sweaty and looks like he just finished a marathon. 

“No.” 

“No?” Harry knows his voice is too loud, but the man doesn’t seem to mind. 

“No, he left like twenty minutes ago.” 

“Where? When is he coming back?” Harry tries to catch his breath, knowing that he could’ve caught Louis if he would’ve left earlier. The man turns around and drags his feet against the floor. Harry follows him, seeing Louis in every little furniture and thing the apartment is filled with. 

 

The man looks at a wall calendar, and then turns towards Harry. 

“He went to London. He’s coming back on the eighth of January.” His words crush Harry, like Louis would’ve just punched a hole through his chest through his flatmates words. 

“Thank you,” Harry only manages to say, not feeling his hands or his feet for completely other reason than before. 

He could’ve caught Louis, if he would’ve come here earlier. 

“Happy holidays,” the man says and smiles a bored smile, when Harry is already on his way out. He closes the door just as he hears the man starting to play his saxophone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think?   
> It was a thrill and a burden to write this chapter, because I didn't have a clear idea how I wanted the story to continue. But I made it!   
> Come talk with me on [tumblr](https://shadowofyoursong.tumblr.com/) or leave me a message here. :)   
> See you next Saturday, 23.9.


	5. Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday people! :) 
> 
> I've now made a public [Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/_hally_/playlist/2kKSzW4hPkbDp3YjKECNeE) for this fic, so if you're interested to find out the music I listen to while writing, in real time, check the playlist out :) I'll also share the playlist here too, like usual! So, It's music time:
> 
> Grizzly Bear / Foreground  
> Bebe Rexha / I Got Time  
> Imagine Dragons / Dream  
> Vicktor Taiwo / Digital Kids

It’s already dark, when Louis comes outside. He sits down on one of the steps on their porch, in their back garden. It’s a clear night, something he has somehow missed in New York. He can see faint stars in the sky, in the darkness of their yard. When he’s in New York, he sometimes forgets there even is a thing called sky. Everything’s just alive all the time, lit up, never resting. 

He knows he doesn’t have to hide that he came out here to smoke. His mum knows, it’s not like he ever even hid it that well. When he was 16, his mum smelled it instantly from his clothes. She didn’t like it back then, she still doesn’t like it. But what can she do anymore? He’s an adult, who doesn’t live at home anymore. 

At least he only smokes occasionally, when he’s feeling stressed or he’s out with people who smoke. It’s not like he has to smoke all the time, he doesn’t. He can dance. Now he can’t, there’s nothing that can take his mind off from the things that are waiting for him in New York. _Who_ is waiting for him in New York. 

 

He’s looking up towards the sky and sees some clouds slowly rolling in. The air is chilly, but it doesn’t matter. He’s wearing his winter jacket and his dad’s boots that seem huge in his feet. Like he’d be tiny, still a young boy wearing his dad’s shoes when he needs to do something in a hurry. The shoes would keep falling off, making him drag his feet against the ground, but they wouldn’t stop him. 

Louis smiles at the memory of still living here. In this same house, in the same room he’s now sleeping in. How different everything was back then. How Juilliard was just a dream and how he danced until his legs wouldn’t carry him anymore. Sometimes he still thinks he’s doing just that; practicing until his legs give up. But instead of his legs, it’s his head that’s telling him to stop. 

The smoke fills his lungs, burns for a few seconds, and then he’s blowing it out in a steady cloud, that slowly disappears into the night air. Everyone else are watching some movie inside, but he wasn’t able to sit in one place and focus on some fictional story about people who just magically meet each other and fall in love in the first half hour into the movie. First there’s a boy or a girl, who is living a normal life. They do normal things and it’s so obvious how normal everything is that it’s supposed to bring the viewer closer to the main character. 

Then, one day, they go somewhere where they always go. This time something is different. They see someone across the room and their eyes lock and bam! It’s love. Who would believe that, when it doesn’t go like that in real life. No one sees you across the room, no one locks eyes with you and there’s no heart shaped confetti flying in the air, telling everyone that these two now have a connection! No, it’s not like that. 

 

His love burns. Or, maybe he can’t say that it’s love. He just likes Harry. Harry is a likeable guy, after you get to know him. Even after all of the things Wes told Louis about what kind of a person Harry was the year before Louis got into the group, it didn’t really shake Louis’ thoughts or tip his world upside down. He knows Wes had the intention to sabotage the duo performance, but Louis just smiled and told him: “Don’t be jealous Wes, it doesn’t suit you.” And then he turned his back to Wes. 

Louis just doesn’t know if he’s jealous of Wes for dancing a solo or if he’s jealous Wes doesn’t have to dance with Harry. Even though it has been kind of wonderful, until lately, he also thinks it’s a huge mistake to dance with Harry. 

 

First of all, it was a mistake Niall even realised that Louis is into Harry. The bad guy in the group, the one who does things only for himself. Louis just never saw that. Harry seemed like anyone else, dancing and being determined. Maybe a bit cocky at times, but still just doing his own thing. Everyone knows how amazing he’s as a dancer, but when someone would mention Harry’s personality, they’d cringe and say something in the lines of: “There are nicer people in this city and if I were you, I’d steer away from Harry Styles.” So, what can you say to that? 

At least Louis didn’t say anything. He was just minding his own business, being himself. But Niall, he had his own ways. 

“Lou, can you please remind me who are in the group again?” He once whined, when Louis was coming out of the shower. 

“Harry, Nico…”

“Thanks!” And Niall was on his way, waving his hand at Louis. 

 

Another instance was when they were having dinner and Louis was reading a book. He could only hear Niall’s munching and the pages turning. 

“Lou, who do you think would look great on the stage alone from our group?” 

“Hmmm, maybe Harry,” Louis just shrugged and kept on reading, not even looking up. 

“Okay,” Niall sounded like he was deep in thought, but he didn’t bring it up again. 

 

After summer holidays were over, and Louis was back in New York from his North America road trip, Niall was the happiest to see him. Aron was his normal self, looked bored but was interested to know what happened over the summer. 

“I saw some people from the group yesterday at the studio,” Niall smiled when he was trying on his LA t-shirt Louis got him as a souvenir. 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah, Nico and Wes and a few others.” He just kept on smiling, checking himself out in the mirror. 

“I think some of them have really evolved during the summer, clearly they’ve been dancing. What do you think, who deserves a solo in the next spring program?” 

“I don’t know, Harry maybe?” 

“Yeah, okay,” Niall didn’t seem to care much what Louis thought. He just kept taking different poses in the mirror. 

 

Until one evening, when they were drunk off their asses, watching a movie that didn’t make sense to either of them. Maybe it was the tequila shots, maybe it was the confusing plot they didn’t really focus on. But it was about dreams and dreams in dreams. Something totally weird. 

“You need to go out on a date,” Niall kept poking Louis’ arm and then ribs when Louis reached towards the table to take a sip from his lethal drink Niall had come up with. 

“Nah, I don’t have time,” he just slurred and suddenly Niall had two heads when Louis looked back at him. 

“I know why you won’t go out with anyone. Not even with the guy who has been totally crushing on you for ages.” 

“What, Brian?” Louis remembered Brian hazily at that moment. A bit taller than him, almost black hair, cute but too cute, nice but too nice. 

“Yeah, that’s the guy!” Niall threw his hands in the air and laughed when he spilt his drink all over them from the glass he was holding. Louis kept swaying, and waited for Niall to calm down to hear the reason he thinks is the truth. 

 

“I know you like Harry,” he smirked and looked smug with himself. 

“No, I don’t,” Louis lazily slapped his arm. He was on the brink of throwing up but he still kept drinking more. 

“Don’t lie to me Louis Tomlinson, I know your secret,” and by that Niall fell onto the floor, giggling away. 

 

The next morning Louis had the worst hangover from hell and he almost felt like it was only because Niall knew. He asked about it later and Louis tried to lie his way out of it, but Niall was clever. He didn’t buy it. He just knew it. 

Why he didn’t want Niall to know, though, is another thing. He didn’t want to be a cliché. He didn’t want to be the nice guy, who falls for the bad guy. He didn’t want to be someone out of a romantic movie, because it wasn’t like that. Harry didn’t even see Louis. And Louis knew Harry didn’t even know his name. 

Louis was a ghost, practicing in the same studio and part of the group, but Harry was so focused on his own dancing and the small group (meaning Nico) of friends that he didn’t see anyone else. Louis didn’t want to become the guy, who will be hurt by the bad guy and then everyone would say _I told you so_. 

 

He’s just glad Niall never mentioned it to anyone else. It was a secret between him and Louis and it didn’t come between professional and personal life. Until the week before the spring program duo and solo performers were announced. 

“I’m thinking about giving you a duo,” Niall said one evening, after Louis had come home from practice and they were having dinner. Niall had made some fish thing that looked horrible, but tasted pretty good. 

“Are you serious?” Louis stared at him with wide eyes, not believing what Niall just said. 

“Yeah, I think you deserve it. And not because you’re my friend but because you’re so talented,” he smiled and kept on writing something into his notebook. 

“Awww, you like my dancing,” Louis just cooed, and batted his lashes when Niall gave him a look. 

“Of course I do!” 

 

“Well, who am I dancing with?” Louis couldn’t contain his excitement. It didn’t matter that his London audition was in a few weeks, dancing in a duo would be a dream come true before he leaves. Or presumably leaves. 

“Harry Styles,” Niall said nonchalantly. 

“What?” Louis thought he didn’t breathe for a few seconds, or minutes. 

“Harry, you know him.” 

 

“Niall, I don’t know if it’s a good decision. I have my London audition coming up and everything, I’m busy anyway!” He couldn’t believe it. He had to come up with a reason to make Niall not make Harry his partner. 

“But your London audition lasts for a day. You’ll be practicing for a few months until you have to perform. So, no, I’m not buying that.” Niall didn’t even look at Louis, who was desperate to make Niall change his mind. 

“But it’s just too much stress!” 

“Nope, I know you would go through a brick wall if you had to when it comes to dancing.” 

“I have to focus on London even after the audition, because I’m going to be moving.” Louis was really losing it. He knew his voice was shaking, and he knew Niall heard it. 

“Nope. London is not a good excuse in this situation Louis.” Then he looked up and capped his pen. 

 

“We both know why you’re coming up with these ‘so called’ explanations, Louis. Admit that you’re scared of working with Harry,” he looked at Louis with serious eyes, breaking his façade. When Louis didn’t answer, Niall just nodded. 

“Take it as a challenge. If you come out of it in one piece, you know you’re ready for London. Sometimes you just have to put your emotions aside and do what you have to do.” 

In a way Niall was right. In a way, it seemed like Niall was bullying him into doing it. 

“And you know, Harry’s not seeing anyone. Maybe you don’t put your emotions aside and you could still come out of it as a winner,” Niall smiled his Niall-ish smile. The one that’s just pure joy and letting go of your worries. The one that tells you you’ll be fine no matter what. 

 

Louis just rolled his eyes and stood up, taking his dinner into his room. 

“If I get hurt, it’s on you. And if the practice is not working, you have to make us try harder,” Louis just told him, not sure why he was saying yes to it. 

“Will do!” Niall laughed, but he didn’t turn to face Louis. He just kept on writing something in the damn notebook of his. 

 

So, here he is. In the steps of his childhood home, in the backyard, on the porch. Watching the stars that are starting to get covered by dark grey clouds. It will rain soon. He feels almost pathetic for being such a coward. Why didn’t he just say something to Harry when he had the chance, when he was still in New York? 

He could’ve said that he has been thinking about kissing Harry since the time they were working on the choreo and actually made progress. He could’ve told Harry he’s going to London, but he wants to talk to Harry about the kiss and what it meant. For all Louis knows, Harry might just forget him. What’s the point if Harry has already moved on and Louis is stuck with feelings he can’t get rid of? 

If he would’ve talked with Harry like a real adult, bravely and facing the truth, he wouldn’t be sitting here, thinking about how wonderful and scary it all was. How it has been scary and wonderful the whole time he has been with Harry, dancing with him and getting to know him on some level. If he would’ve stayed there, if he wouldn’t have run away, he wouldn’t be here thinking what he’s missing. 

 

He wonders what Harry is doing. If he’s in New York, or if he’s in London. If he’s in the 30 kilometre radius from Louis. His stomach fills with nerves, and he can’t keep them at bay. He takes out his phone, taking a few puffs from his cigarette before he unlocks it. Some friends are asking if he wants to hang out before he’s going back to New York and he feels like he’s not even having a holiday. 

He’s running from one place to the other, spending time with as many people as he can. Technically he’d need at least one more week of holiday so he could also relax. At the same time, he’s happy he has some other place to go. He can relax when he’s dancing. 

Then there’s the conversation he’s had with Harry. In the last message Harry asked something about training times, what time they should meet at the studio if they rehearse before the rest of the group. Louis never answered. He feels a bit shitty about it, he shouldn’t have been so cold. And he also understands why he did it; he just wanted to protect himself. 

 

Louis scrolls through the conversation, surprised to see how much they’ve talked in the few weeks they’ve had each other’s phone numbers. Just small things, asking what time they should meet and if they should add this or that into the choreo. And then there’s a random “Should I bring some snacks to our rehearsal?” or “I wonder what the audience will think when they see our performance next spring”. Louis smiles at that, how innocent it all sounds. Under the surface his thoughts aren’t as innocent. 

He opens the profile picture Harry has uploaded. He looks serious, with mischievous glint in his eyes. It looks like someone has snapped it, asking Harry to just look up and there it is, the photo from that moment. Louis zooms in the photo, trying to see if his eyes are as green in the picture as they are in nature. 

 

“Who is that?” Louis doesn’t hear his sister, Lottie, coming out. She’s smiling, bundled in a thick winter coat. Their mum’s coat. Louis whips his head around, seeing Lottie smiling at him. She sits next to him, right against his side. Louis tries to keep the screen of his phone away from her, but she’s looking at it like it’s one more gift for her. 

“You can tell me, I won’t tell mum if you don’t want,” she nudges him. Her eyes are glinting in the warm light that their parents and rest of their siblings are sitting in, in the safety of their living room. 

“It’s no one,” Louis can’t look at his sister anymore. Saying that Harry is no one is like saying that his sister wouldn’t mean that much to him. What a waste of words really. 

“I think you wouldn’t be zooming in on his eyes if he wouldn’t mean anything to you,” she points out, wrapping her arms around Louis’ arm. She leans her head against his shoulder and for a moment the clouds they puff from their mouths mix together. Louis takes a drag from his cigarette, feeling that the words are going to just spill out. If he’s not telling Lottie, the words might spill to his mum. 

 

“He’s just someone in our group,” Louis caves in, hoping Lottie won’t ask any more questions. But it’s his sister and that will never happen. 

“What’s his name?” 

“Harry.” 

Silence sets in between them again and Louis wonders what she’s thinking about. What even he’s thinking about. Should he just keep his mouth shut about Harry? They’re nothing, even though they’ve now kissed. It means nothing, because he didn’t stay and talk with Harry. 

Though, Harry hasn’t contacted Louis either. And he could’ve if he would’ve wanted to. So maybe he doesn’t want anything. Maybe it was all just a game and Louis fell for it. And now he’s here with his own little feelings and own little heart that’s cracking into small pieces inside his chest. 

 

Louis doesn’t really care if his sister knows about Harry. As long as she doesn’t mention him to their mum, everything’s fine. Lottie has never said anything about Louis’ boyfriends to their mum, so they’re good. Only if Louis wants his mum to know that there is someone special, then he’ll tell. 

There has been a couple of guys, but nothing came out of those relationships. So, he has become cautious. Especially because his mum wants to meet every guy Louis mentions. And this definitely doesn’t need his mum’s attention, not when there’s nothing to tell. 

He brings the phone back alive and he types in the code. He knows Lottie is watching him with hawk eyes, but she already saw what Louis was doing earlier. 

There Harry’s eyes are, in all their zoomed in glory. Lottie pinches the screen to see Harry’s whole face. 

“Handsome,” she comments, and she snuggles a little closer to Louis. 

“You think?” 

“Yeah. I have never seen you with a guy like him though,” she talks with a muted voice. Maybe she knows that talking about Harry is a little uncomfortable for Louis. 

 

“When you look at this picture, what kind of a person do you think he is?” 

Lottie takes his phone into her hands and she stares at the picture for a moment. 

“He looks kind, though a bit reserved. Maybe a bit of a tough guy, but also gentle. Quite serious? Not like a fun person.” She hands the phone back to Louis and her words just hang in the air. Louis could connect them to anyone in his life if he’d look at them and not really know them. He looks at Harry’s picture and thinks about the words; kind, reserved, tough, gentle, serious. Is he? 

 

Louis can’t tell if he’s kind or not. They don’t know each other that well. He doesn’t know what Harry is like with the people he cares about the most. Maybe he cares about his friends the way he cares about his family. At least he doesn’t seem that close with his parents. Does he have any siblings, Louis can’t remember Harry ever mentioning anyone. 

Harry is definitely reserved, he doesn’t open up easily. The last time he did was after his panic attack and it kind of forced Harry to say something about his past. Even though he didn’t say much. Just that there was someone he was in love with. 

He is tough, too, he keeps it all in and doesn’t let anyone close other than the people he trusts. 

 

Gentle? 

Louis’ skin shivers and not because he’d be cold. No. It’s because his skin remembers Harry’s hands on his waist, holding Louis gently against his body, while they were kissing. First, he wasn’t even touching Louis, he was like a tree and Louis was a koala and Louis almost started to laugh at the thought. 

But then Harry answered his kiss and slowly his hands came to hold Louis, his grip tight but so gentle that it might’ve been a touch of a feather. Louis doesn’t know if Harry even knew he was touching Louis, just because of the face he made when he saw his hands reaching towards Louis when Louis stepped away. 

 

Yes, he’s gentle. But can be rough too. That Louis has seen while they’ve danced. 

Is Harry funny? At least he hasn’t cracked any jokes while he has been with Louis. But he smiles a lot if he’s in a good mood and it’s a charming smile and it just tells Louis that he does have a lighter side. But funny? Louis can’t tell. 

 

“What’s the deal with you two then?” Lottie asks, when they haven’t said anything in a while. 

“I don’t know,” Louis shrugs. Lottie leans back, and when Louis glances at her, he knows she’s not believing him. 

“I really don’t, there’s nothing to tell. We dance together because we are performing a duo in our spring program. That’s it.” 

“And?” Lottie drags the word out. 

“And what?”

“You say nothing has happened, but it doesn’t seem like it.” She leans her head back against his shoulder. 

“Why are you hiding things?” She asks, and for a moment Louis thinks he hears worry in her tone. Why isn’t he telling? Is it because he doesn’t know what to tell? Or because there is nothing to tell? Or because he’s afraid he’s only going to get hurt? Because he doesn’t know what will happen when he goes back to New York? 

“We kissed,” Louis sighs. He inhales one last time from his cigarette and then puts it out. Lottie doesn’t say anything, but she comes just a little closer, even though Louis thought it’s not physically possible. 

 

“What was it like?” She finally breaks the silence. Louis can’t help but smile. 

“He was good,” even he can hear how his voice changes. It’s lighter, carefree, happier. 

“I knew something was going on,” she chuckles and her voice matches Louis’. 

“How would you know?” 

“You wouldn’t be here thinking about him if something wouldn’t have happened.” She says it matter of factly, like everyone would know the thought process of Louis Tomlinson. What he does when he’s unsure of something and what he does when he knows something for sure, but can’t quite trust the situation. 

Louis leans his head against hers. He misses this, being with his family. With his oldest little sister. Of course, he likes to spend time with all of his siblings, but him and Lottie are a bit different. Sometimes he feels like she’s the only one who can truly understand him. And he understands her. 

 

“I hope you’ll figure it out,” she just says, releasing herself and standing up. Louis looks at her and sees a calm smile on her face. 

“Wanna come inside?” 

“I’ll sit here for a while longer, but I’ll be there soon.” Lottie nods and then she’s going in. Louis waits for her to close the door to turn back to his phone. 

 

The conversation with Harry is still open. He’d like to send him a message, but what? Should he say that he should’ve stayed to talk with Harry? Or that maybe they could meetup when Louis gets back to New York? Or something more conversational, maybe a hey and how he’s doing. 

Harry comes online and suddenly it feels surreal. Like Harry would be right here, with Louis, in the same place. He’s here, but he’s not here. Louis stares at the word ‘online’, until it goes away and there’s only Harry’s name left. And then he comes back online and Louis’ heart picks up its pace once more. It happens one more time, before Harry is officially ‘offline’. Louis waits for him to come back, but he doesn’t. It’s just Louis. 

He types the best message he can come up with at this lonely hour, when he can’t say anything else. 

“Merry Christmas, Harry.”

 

\- -

 

Niall is texting with his girlfriend the whole time they walk towards the club. Louis doesn’t even know why they decided to walk there, but Niall kept insisting it. 

“It’s New Year’s Eve, Louis, we’re going to be there quicker when we walk!” And then he smiled his Niall-ish smile and Louis couldn’t say no. 

Now Louis thinks they definitely would’ve been there about 20 minutes ago if they would’ve chosen the subway. 

There’s a lot of people around them. Restaurants are filled to the brim and some have lines of people, waiting to be seated in some small table. At least in the club they have a lot of people waiting for them to come and they don’t have to wait in lines or anything. 

 

“Did you know Harry is there?” Niall suddenly asks, like he wouldn’t have known it. 

“Did you invite him?” Louis just raises his brows, stuffing his hands deeper into his jeans pockets. 

“No, I didn’t, and I have no idea if he’s there because he heard we are going or if it’s a coincidence,” Niall sounds genuinely confused. Maybe he didn’t know after all. 

“Are you serious?” 

“Louis, yes! I have no idea how he… Ooooh,” Niall stops like he’s doing a dramatic reading of something Louis needs to know about right now. 

“What?” 

“He came there with some other friends, like his flat mate and Nico. I think it’s just those three.” 

 

Louis can feel how his feet move a little faster and his heart is saying “Harry is there, be ready”. But his head is telling him to slow down. That this can go anyway possible. Harry could be happy to see Louis. He could ignore Louis. He could be friendly. He could be flirty (whatever that is for Harry). He could ask to talk with Louis. Maybe they’ll kiss at midnight. What if they kiss? 

“Wait up!” Louis hears Niall yell and he stops, turning to look at Niall who is several steps behind. He smiles, his brows raised. 

“Well, well, well! Who doesn’t mind walking after all when Harry’s name is mentioned?” He laughs when Louis turns his back and keeps on walking. 

“I’m just kidding!” 

“I know! And it’s not that, I just want to get there…” And see Harry and sit next to him and get to know him and spend the evening with him and then maybe kiss him? 

“Oookay,” Niall says with a high voice, and it annoys Louis and at the same time he’s so sure Niall can actually read Louis’ mind. Louis feels so aware of where they’re going, what he looks like tonight (black skinny jeans, a winter jean jacket, a white t-shirt, his hair styled which he never does when he’s going to the studio). That it’s New Year’s Eve.

The club comes to view faster than Louis would’ve liked. His feet move a little slower and it gets harder to breathe. He’s too nervous to face Harry. He doesn’t even know if Harry knows he wasn’t here during Christmas. Does Harry know Louis is coming to the club too?

 

“Why are you slowing down now?” Niall asks, when Louis almost drags his feet against the street and then stops completely, when they’re almost at the door. He swallows, looking at the building and hearing the music and just picturing Harry in there. With Louis’ group of friends and being comfortable with them. 

“Me and Harry kissed,” Louis exhales and the words just stream out of his mouth. Niall is now the second person to know. And he feels like he’s the bearer of the worst news anyone could tell someone. Like he’d tell Niall he’s going to lose his room and Niall has to live on the street. And he feels stupid thinking this way because kissing Harry is all he has been thinking about since he got back to New York a couple of days ago. 

He wasn’t even supposed to come back until the eighth and now he’s here because he didn’t want to stay in London because what if there’s someone who he could kiss at midnight during New Year’s? And he has been beating himself up for it since he stepped on that plane. He’s ditching his family for a guy who might not even want to be with Louis. 

 

“I kind of knew that already,” Niall says it carefully, like now he’d be the one to say the worst thing you can say to your best friend. 

“How?” 

“Harry ran to the studio at the last rehearsals and his cheeks were beet red! You should’ve seen it. He looked like something more had happened. And then he asked if you were there and I kind of guessed,” he shrugs, but his hand comes to rest on Louis’ shoulder to comfort Louis. 

“I think he really likes you,” Niall chuckles, like Lottie chuckled when she said she knew something was going on. 

“Yeah, he does, he told me,” Louis tears his eyes away from the building and they land on Niall, who nods his head. 

“See! You don’t even have to be nervous, just go in there and get drinks with him and then see what happens.” Niall’s voice sounds so supportive and enthusiastic and happy that Louis can’t help but smile. Niall can always make him feel better, no matter what. 

 

Niall takes his hand and drags Louis towards the doors. He talks with the bouncer and he even laughs about something. But Louis is swallowing his nerves down his throat and showing his ID to the bouncer and trying to keep cool. It’s nothing, it’s Harry. It’s just Harry and they dance together and it’s all okay. 

Though, it’s _Harry_ and they’re meeting for the first time since their kiss and Louis feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest. 

 

The bouncer lets them in and Niall still has his hand tightly wrapped around Louis’. He’s craning his neck to see their group, Aron and some other dancers from Juilliard. Louis is trying to spot Harry. But he feels blind, because he can’t see anyone’s face. Like his brain would be blocking everything else from his mind, other than Harry. 

Suddenly Niall is pulling Louis to walk with more purpose and Louis knows he spotted everyone. And Louis doesn’t want to go but he’s making his feet move. First, he sees Aron, then he spots Liam next to Aron, then someone who he doesn’t know, Nico, and then Billy and Jemima from another dance group. 

 

“Iris!” Louis can hear Niall’s voice over the music, when he lets go of Louis’ hand to push through the crowd and get to his girlfriend. Louis follows Niall a few steps behind, and when he reaches their table, Harry isn’t there. He’s almost relieved. 

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” Louis says to Iris, when they hug. 

“If you would’ve known, you would’ve ruined my surprise for Niall,” she smiles. Louis waves at everyone, eyeing the random guy sitting next to Liam. Maybe it’s one of their friend. Nico nods at Louis and smiles, but his eyes are a bit too intense to take it only as a greeting. Like he’d be studying Louis’ reactions. Does he know? Has Harry told him about the kiss? 

 

Iris makes room for Louis when she sits down next to Niall. Louis sits on the other end of the rounded couch around a round table filled with drinks and bottles. Everyone are talking to each other, even Aron looks a bit more enthusiastic than before. 

Louis tries to hear what the others are talking about and get joined in, but it seems impossible in this place. The music is too loud and the bass is shaking him all over. He wonders if he should get a drink or move to sit between some people in their group. Now he just notices eyes on him and they make him even more conscious of what he looks like and if they know something Louis doesn’t want them to know. What if they’re talking about him? 

He needs a drink. 

 

Just as he’s about to stand up and get one, or two, the stranger starts to smile at something. Or someone. Louis follows his gaze and there he is. Harry, walking towards their table. And oh damn, he is not real. 

Louis sits back down, not able to not look away. He has never seen Harry like this. He’s wearing even tighter jeans than Louis and he can see _everything_. He swallows to stop his mouth from salivating. And then there’s Harry’s shirt. It’s black and it has pink flamingos all over. The top buttons are undone and he has rolled the sleeves up. 

At rehearsals, he always wears cotton shirts with long sleeves and round necklines. And now Louis can see his chest covered with tattoos and his arms covered with tattoos and he thinks there might not be a clear spot left anymore. Other than his face. Louis never thought there would be anything on his skin. He has always imagined Harry’s skin to be milky clean, smooth and soft. This just makes Louis want to know if he has any more tattoos. 

His hair. He has cut it. Short, shorter than it has ever been while Louis has been in the same group with Harry. Longer on the top, buzzcut on the sides. Louis has to look away because he’s getting drunk even from looking at Harry. 

 

Harry smiles at the stranger and he apologises to Jemima, Bill and Nico to get to the man. Harry sits down next to him, his hand landing on the man’s thigh. And the man has his hand around Harry’s waist. 

Louis stands up, he doesn’t want to see it. He doesn’t want to watch and get his heart trampled because it’s already getting bruised. His knees knock against the table and all the glasses shake, luckily not spilling anything. Everyone turn their eyes on Louis, Niall even reaching towards him. He has a worried look on his face. Louis knows he’s not only reaching towards Louis because of the table. But because of Harry. _Are you okay_ , his eyes ask. 

And then there’s Harry. Maybe he didn’t see Louis before. But now he does see Louis and his eyes are hard and his face is like stone and Louis doesn’t know what he’s thinking, what he’s seeing. His hands are still on the man and he’s looking at Louis, like he’d be mocking Louis. Everyone else turn back to their conversations and having the best New Year’s yet and Louis is there, frozen in one place, while Harry is staring at him and making him feel stupid. 

Louis is the first to turn his eyes away. He leaves towards the bar and plans to drink as much as it takes to forget that moment. 

 

His head becomes hazy after a few shots and a beer and the good buzz turns his nervousness into not caring about anything. He orders one more shot and a drink and takes them with him to the table. He squeezes through dancing bodies and tries to keep his eyes clear. 

When he reaches the table, it looks like nothing has changed. Everyone are talking with each other and Louis sits back down on the other end of the couch, where he can’t hear anything what the others are saying. He chucks back the shot and leans against the couch. He drinks and then he drinks some more and he wonders how much he can down until his feet won’t carry him anymore. He avoids Harry, who is staring at him again. If he wants to get through the night, he can’t let this bother him. 

Harry can do whatever he wants. They’re not together and they haven’t talked after the kiss. It’s not like the kiss meant something. It was just a kiss. A Christmas present if you like. Louis doesn’t care what Harry is doing, and he has clearly someone else on his mind other than Louis. He wouldn’t be here with someone, if he wouldn’t have moved on. If there was something to move forward from. It’s okay! 

 

Louis drinks and watches people dancing on the dance floor. He doesn’t talk with anyone, but Niall says something to him at some point and Louis waves his hand even though he doesn’t even hear what the words were that came out of Niall’s mouth. 

He buys more shots and feels more and more lightheaded after every trip to the bar. Someone tries to talk to him over at the bar, but his mind keeps drifting to Harry. He can’t see Harry from the bar though, so it feels stupid to think about Harry. 

 

The boy wants to dance with Louis and he compliments Louis’ body with many different versions of how Louis’ backside is something he’d definitely want to touch. Louis doesn’t say anything to that, but he takes the man’s hand into his and leads them to the dancefloor. 

First Louis doesn’t see their table from their place and he’s happy. The music takes him away and he closes his eyes. He feels the man holding his waist, grinding against Louis, and it feels uncomfortable. The man doesn’t know how to use his hips! 

Louis opens his eyes, realising that he’s comparing this man to Harry and Harry’s dancing skills. He has never seen how Harry would dance in a club. Once again, Louis feels stupid. And he hates that even thinking about Harry makes him feel this way. 

 

He turns around in the hands of the man and he wonders if the man introduced himself. Did Louis tell the man his own name? He can’t remember anything. How did the man even come and talk to Louis? 

The man is dancing and Louis realises that he’s not putting any effort into his moves. It’d be the same if he’d just stand there and do nothing. He places his hands on top of the man’s and he dances with the stranger, his eyes traveling across the room. 

He knows what he’s looking for. When he does, he wishes he wouldn’t have searched for it. Harry is kissing the stranger next to him. The man has his hand against the back of Harry’s head, bringing him closer. And Harry has his hand on the guy’s neck, his eyes closed. 

 

“Excuse me!” Louis tells the man he’s dancing with. Louis pushes himself off the man, and leaves without telling him any explanations. Why should he explain why he’s leaving, the man probably knew he’s not a good dancer. Louis is thinking about Harry again and how he’d dance with Louis. 

He leaves without saying a word to Niall or any other of their friends. He gets his jacket from the cloakroom and lets his drunkenness wash over him when he takes the first breath of fresh air after he steps outside. 

He can’t believe he’s doing this, that he’s leaving before midnight. And only because of Harry. He hates Harry. He doesn’t like Harry at all, no. Louis hates his guts. He will not be played and Harry will not make him look stupid anymore. They might dance together in the spring program, but Harry will not make Louis feel like a fool. 

 

When he gets home, he’s powered by his annoyance. He washes his teeth and face and he falls into bed, thinking what an idiot he has been. He really thought something could happen with Harry and he also knew Harry could just fuck with his head. That’s what has happened, Harry is someone who will just fuck you over and Louis will not think about him anymore. It’s done! 

He stays awake until well past midnight. He hears the fireworks and only sees Harry kissing that other guy in his mind. He tries to close his eyes and it only makes his feeling of being rejected and played worse. Especially when he wishes he could hold Harry’s face in his hands and kiss him until their lips are raw. 

 

\- -

 

Louis arrives at the studio with Niall, well before anyone else are there. Or, are supposed to be there. Niall opens the door and the first thing they see is Harry jumping in the air, his back arched and his skin glistening in the cold lights of the studio. Both Louis and Niall stare at him, Niall’s hand on the handle. The music is loud and it reminds Louis of the song him and Harry are dancing their duo to. 

Harry keeps dancing, his eyes closed and his brows pulled tightly together. Like he’d be in pain, still wanting to dance no matter what. His eyes open and Louis would want to turn away, leave, and never look back. But he stands still and Harry has his eyes on him. 

“Wow Harry! Why won’t we see anything like this when the whole group is here?” Niall gushes, walking into the studio, forcing Louis to come inside. Harry’s focus turns to Niall, and Louis can breathe again. He drops his bag close to the door, and turns his back to Harry and Niall. He doesn’t want to give Harry the attention he’s asking for. 

 

“You two will survive here for a second, I’m going to get some coffee.” 

Louis is warming up, when Niall smiles at him, and then at Harry. Louis wishes he could go with Niall, not be alone in the same room with Harry. He can’t take it right now. It has been a bit over a week since the party and all he can think about is how annoyed he is. And not even at Harry. But at himself. He’s so annoyed at himself, for thinking that Harry might actually care. That he could at least on some level care about Louis. He knows nothing about Harry for goodness sake! 

 

“Do you want to practice the duo today?” Harry has a gentleness in his voice Louis has never heard before. Louis lifts his eyes towards the mirror and he sees Harry, standing there, behind him, a few meters away. He looks different in so many ways. 

Not just because of his hair, but almost like he’d be sorry. He’s just different. And Louis can’t tell what that difference is. Maybe Harry has changed completely, maybe it’s a different person completely. Maybe Louis is reading too much into it, maybe he’s feeling too much for the boy. 

“No,” he says coldly, and it hurts. He looks away immediately, not wanting to see the hurt in Harry’s eyes. but he catches a glimpse and Louis feels like he’s bleeding all over. 

 

They don’t talk for the rest of the practice. People rehearse the group choreos with larger groups other than the groups of four they had originally planned. There’s a lot of things to make right; to make the choreos cohesive and complete. For some reason Louis feels like he has just now started dancing, that he hasn’t danced before, like this would be his first time in a dance studio. He stumbles through the choreos and his head spins every time there’s even a small pirouette in the routine. 

Harry’s not doing better either. He almost loses his balance at one point and they have to begin the whole choreo again. And when they have to do all these crazy twirls, Harry seems to lose his balance like Louis did. But he knows a way to fix it. And it’s by looking straight into Louis’ eyes when he needs a focus point. Louis would want to look the other way, but he can’t. If he will, Harry will lose his balance. And Louis might lose his balance as well, and he might fall even harder. 

 

After one of the five choreos has been practiced fully, Niall calls for a break. The group agrees without hesitation, while Louis would much rather keep dancing or just leave. He’s not hungry at all and he doesn’t want to stop now, when he has found his way back into the flow of dancing (even though he could do better). 

He picks up his phone from his bag and catches it ringing. Most have already gone, so it’s a good moment for him to answer. He doesn’t know the number and he rarely picks up if he doesn’t know who it is. But this time he might know who it is. 

 

Louis steps out, not looking back. He’s talking quietly and it’s hard for Harry to hear what is going on. The way Louis answered his phone makes Harry question who it is. If it’s someone, whose call Louis has waited for a while? Or if it’s someone who is important to Louis? 

Harry follows him out silently, and he stays to wait for him. He doesn’t know why he’s doing it, Louis is not happy to be around Harry. That has been proved. Louis has his back towards Harry and he’s slowly walking away, taking a step every five seconds. 

He should go, he shouldn’t stand here and wait like an idiot, but he wants to talk with Louis. Ask how his holiday was and what he has been doing. If he has thought about their kiss. If Louis thinks it was just a mistake. He’s building up the courage, gathering every small piece he might have, and at the same time he feels like he’s scraping together nothing. 

Louis turns around and he’s smiling. Wide. He types something in his phone and he takes those small steps back. With a breath, he lifts his face and his eyes meet Harry’s. He stops, his smile disappears. He looks back down and walks towards Harry, fast, not looking up. His shoulder brushes against Harry’s arm, but he starts to walk even quicker, getting away from Harry as fast as he can. 

Harry watches him go, until he can’t see Louis anymore. He has to eat too, but he doesn’t want to go to the cafeteria. Not, when Louis is there. Not, when Louis can’t even look at him. All this just assures Harry how the kiss was just a mistake. Is Louis embarrassed it happened? What happens when they have to practice their duo? Harry doesn’t want to think about it, because he’s afraid it’s all crumbling in his hands. And he doesn’t want to give up. But Louis might’ve given up already. And it scares Harry. 

 

\- -

 

Harry runs, and he runs more and he runs routes that he hasn’t taken before. He runs until his feet feel like jelly and he runs until his legs feel like wood. His body is saying something else, telling him to take a break, but his head isn’t listening. He keeps on going, going on until he feels his own agitation running out. His lungs are trying to make him stop, but he slows his pace down only a little, until he can run like he ran before too. 

He knows that he’s going towards Louis’ and he still finds himself surprised when he’s standing behind Louis’ door. Is it even okay that he’s here, on a Saturday, at 11 in the morning? Does Louis sleep in? Is it okay that Harry is here even though he didn’t text Louis beforehand? He’s not worried about Louis’ flat mates, they can talk in Louis’ room. Probably Aron will come and open the door anyway, like always. And even though he’d look bored, he’s not boring. Harry found that out during New Year’s. 

 

Harry has been thinking how he’ll do this for the past week. Seeing Louis at the club was a surprise, and at times he wanted to push Frankie away, because he didn’t want Louis to see. And then he was kissing Frankie and he was thinking about Louis, how he could be kissing with him instead of Frankie. He felt even worse, when Louis wasn’t there at midnight, because he would’ve wanted to do something. At least hug him. But he would’ve been fooling himself. He was there with a date and Louis wasn’t him. 

When Louis wished him a merry Christmas, he was sitting alone at home, eating chocolate out of a huge collection. He was watching a movie he watches every Christmas and he wanted to go home, back to London. And then he thought about Louis, with his family, and he got jealous. He would’ve wanted to be with his family too. He had thought about sending Louis a message, ask him how his Christmas had been so far. But then Louis messaged him and it would’ve been weird if Harry would’ve texted him. 

 

This week Harry has been trying to be himself, but even he knows he hasn’t been himself. Nico has definitely noticed that something is up. When he told Nico they kissed before Christmas, Nico was about to jump through the roof. He was so happy for Harry. 

And then it all kind of shrivelled into one ball and caught fire and disappeared. Louis doesn’t want to talk with Harry, doesn’t want to make any contact with him. He didn’t want to practice their duo at all this week and it’s a clear sign Louis is giving up. 

Harry isn’t letting him. 

 

He takes a breath and knocks on the door. He takes a step back and comes up with something to say. “Hi Aron, is Louis in? I’d like to speak with him?” He hears lazy steps from the other side of the door and Harry takes his headphones off his ears. He combs his fingers through his hair and he clears his throat. 

The door opens and… 

 

“Harry?” Louis asks, his hand on the door handle, his face a mix of surprise and confusion and maybe nervousness? 

“Hi!” He almost asks to see Louis, because he needs to talk with him, but then he realises that it’s really not necessary. Louis is right there. 

“Hi,” he says again, and he clears his throat once more. 

“Can I talk with you?” 

Louis looks at him like Harry would’ve grown a second head. For a moment, he’s not moving at all, until he inhales and then he moves aside. He blinks rapidly, and moves away from Harry when Harry is taking off his trainers. 

 

“Are you alone?” Harry asks him, the apartment unusually quiet. 

“Yeah, Niall took Iris upstate because it’s her birthday this weekend. And Aron went to see his family,” Louis walks into the kitchen, not turning around to face Harry when he talks. 

“Okay,” Harry can only say. 

There’s a cup of tea on the dining table and a book. Also, Louis’ phone is on the table and Harry thinks about the ‘Merry Christmas, Harry’ -message Louis sent him. Where was he when he typed it? Was he thinking about sending Harry something else? But then settled with the greeting, because he didn’t come up with anything else? Why did he send the message in the first place? 

 

“What do you want to talk about?” Louis sits down by the table. Harry stands for a while longer, not sure if he can sit down or not. If he should just stand and be ready to leave. 

He decides to sit down, even if Louis wouldn’t want that. 

“Just about the duo,” he begins and it’s the other thing he’d like to talk about. But it’s not the thing that made him come here. 

“Okay, what about it?” Louis is cold, like ice, and his eyes are even colder. Harry stares at his hands, not knowing what to say. He’s trying to form sentences in his head, but when he thinks he has come up with one, he realises he hasn’t. He has to say something, because Louis’ eyes are drilling into his skull and they’re trying to find the truth from his mind. 

“Do you think we can work, even though… We kissed?” 

Louis’ eyes go empty, and he doesn’t say anything. He breathes deep, like he’d try to calm himself. 

“Yeah, why not.”

No. 

 

“Louis, you didn’t want to practice the choreo all week and I feel like it has something to do with the kiss.” Harry won’t take any lies, not when he can see them so clearly on Louis’ face. 

“It has nothing to do with the kiss,” Louis shrugs and takes a sip from the mug in front of him. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, sure, we’ll just dance.” 

“Fine, we’ll just dance,” Harry agrees. And he still knows that Louis is feeding him with lies. Lies, that will hurt more than the truth. 

Harry stands up, and he feels his breathing shuddering in his bones. He doesn’t look at Louis, when he leaves, and goes to the door to put on his shoes. 

 

The duo won’t happen. Louis will probably talk with Niall and Niall will say yes because they’re good friends. And then Niall will just tell Harry that it’s over and someone else will get the duo and Harry has to dance in the group and no one will notice him. 

Only because of a kiss. 

 

Harry stands up and his head is dizzy, his eyes seeing only white for a few seconds. He can’t believe himself. He came here, and he didn’t do what he was supposed to. He’s a coward and he’s a failure. He checks he has his keys, like he could’ve lost them while he’s here. They’re still securely in his pocket, with his phone and headphones. 

He looks at the door and feels like a complete idiot. He’s going to run back home, even faster than when he was running here. 

 

“The kiss wasn’t nothing, at least not for me.” Harry hears Louis’ voice. He turns around and Louis stands there and his cheeks are blotchy. 

“What?” 

“Do you like me? Like you told me; do you really like me?” Louis asks, and there it is. Louis is like an open book for once. Harry stares at him, not knowing what to do. Should he say something? Do something? 

“Do you like me, Harry?” Louis asks again, bringing Harry back to this one place, away from his thoughts. 

“Yes,” Harry’s voice gives up and the word comes out as a whisper. 

 

“What about the guy during New Year’s? Are you together?” Is he jealous? 

Harry takes a step forward, then another, and another, until he’s standing right in front of Louis. His chest brushes against Louis’. 

“We’re not together,” Harry says so quietly that even he can’t hear himself. 

Louis eyes stare into Harry’s and then they flick to Harry’s lips. Harry is afraid to do anything, he doesn’t want this moment to stop. He doesn’t want it to go away. If he could, he would stop time right at this second, so he could stay in the right now, and not make it a memory. Not make it something that happened. 

 

“I like you too,” Louis whispers and the words vibrate in Harry’s body, clattering in his head, breaking everything into small pieces. Louis’ hand snakes around Harry’s neck and he pulls Harry closer, until he’s kissing Harry. 

Harry is swimming in the warmest of oceans. The first kiss made him lose everything around him. It made him forget his own body and only his lips existed. Now he feels everything. He knows where his hands are, how he’s breathing, what he’s feeling. How his body feels against Louis’. What Louis’ body feels in his hands. 

And still, they’re only kissing. And Harry still has his trainers on and he was about to leave. But now he doesn’t want to. And what come to Louis’ hands, they’re also telling Harry not to go. They pull him closer, until Harry realises Louis is leaning against a wall and his both hands are wrapped around Harry’s neck. 

Harry is swimming. And he’s not swimming alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone :)  
> Today I was planning the rest of the chapters for this fic and I came to the conclusion that there'll be a total of 8 chapters. So 3 to go! 
> 
> What have you thought so far of this fic? You can talk with me here or on [Tumblr](https://shadowofyoursong.tumblr.com/) :)
> 
> UPDATE: Hi people! I won't be able to update on 30.9. even though I said so. I'm really busy this week with UNI work and my brain is filled with Swedish. I want to give you something that I'm happy with and if I'd update this week, the chapter wouldn't be finished the way I want it to be. So, the next update will be up next week, on the 7th of October. Love you guys for reading and being patient and leaving kudos and comments. I'll see you next week! <3


	6. The date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! Here it is, chapter 6, finally!  
> Be ready for fluff-fest :) Also, there's a text conversation, where Harry's parts are written with **bold** and Louis' parts are written with _cursive_. 
> 
> Songs for this chapter:  
> The XX - Brave For You (Marfa Demo)  
> Lorde - Liability (Reprise)  
> Bleachers - Wake Me  
> Rupert Holmes - Escape  
> David Bowie - Heroes  
> Arcade Fire - We Don't Deserve Love
> 
> You can find the official playlist also from [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/_hally_/playlist/2kKSzW4hPkbDp3YjKECNeE) :)

The ceiling. Harry is pretty sure he knows why Louis liked to look at it the last time he was in Louis’ room. It’s filled with shadows, light, face-like formations, creatures that fight over the space. They’re entertaining, calming in a way. Soothing in situations that are new and almost absurd. 

 

“What are you thinking?” 

Louis breathes quietly, but Harry hears it. Even when he has his head pressed against Louis’ pillow and Louis is lying on the bed the other way around. Harry can only see the silhouette of Louis’ face from this angle; his long lashes, his cheekbones, the shape of his lips. 

Lying here, in Louis’ bed, like he’d be a teenager again, trying to get used to someone’s personal space after school, is refreshing. Louis’ fingers touch Harry’s thigh every few seconds, just to make sure Harry is still there. 

Harry would want to feel Louis’ hands, fingers against his bare skin, but now he has to settle for feeling his light touch against his sweats. Every time he feels that gentle contact, a new part of him catches fire. Under his hoodie and sweats and a t-shirt and underwear, he feels like he’s being burnt alive. But he likes it, he lets it happen. He doesn’t care if it happens. If Louis turns him into a pile of coals and there’s no turning back, he doesn’t mind. He hasn’t been this alive in a long time. 

 

“Is it bad if I say that I don’t know?” Louis’ voice asks. It’s faint, or maybe Harry has lost parts of his hearing. 

“No,” Harry doesn’t know what else to tell him. Why would it be bad? Is he afraid he’s going to hurt Harry’s feelings? 

“No, it’s not.”

“This is all just… really new…” Louis stutters the words out and his fingers brush against Harry’s leg a bit more roughly. 

“I know,” Harry really doesn’t know how to get closer to Louis. This is all really new to him too. 

He feels like this is something that shouldn’t be happening. But it is and he’s just thrown into this situation, which doesn’t make any sense to him. He has wanted this, but now when he has it, he’s afraid to do what he wants. He’s afraid to be close to Louis, this close, close in other ways than just professionally. He feels like this is all extremely wrong like this is the moment that will either make or break them. This could become something wonderful or this could be the end of them. Everything can be over in a second. One wrong word or move, and it can be over. That’s it. No more Louis for Harry. 

 

Louis shuffles up and sits cross-legged next to Harry. He’s looking at his hands, but then he dares to look up and he doesn’t even blink when his eyes land on Harry’s. 

“I never thought this could actually happen, that this could be happening right now,” he shakes his head slowly, his brows rising in surprise. 

“Had you thought about this happening?” 

“This, that you’re in my bed like you’d come here every Saturday in your workout gear and then lay in my bed?” 

“Sure,” Harry doesn’t know why, but he doesn’t want to correct what he meant; _that I’m here and you’re here and we make out until our lips are raw_. 

“I can’t deny that I haven’t thought about it,” Louis chuckles breathlessly, then his face twists into a serious frown. 

 

“What do you want from me?”

“Want from you?” Harry narrows his eyes, almost afraid to hear what Louis has to say. 

“Yeah. Do you want a one-night thing or something else?” 

 

Harry thought he’d have the answer. But now when the question is up in the air, the answer doesn’t come out as easily as he had thought. Of course, he wants something more. But how can he say that to Louis? This is almost like defining a relationship after their first date even though this isn’t even a date. 

“I want to see what can happen, that’s all I know,” Harry says, feeling like a bastard right away. Is that something Louis wants to hear? Is that something anyone would want to hear?

He sees Louis’ thought filled face and he can’t tell if that’s something Louis would want to hear. Or not. 

“Okay, so…” 

“If I’d only want to sleep with you, I wouldn’t be here hanging out with you with our clothes on,” Harry leans on his elbows, and his body gets conscious of the smaller distance between their faces. There’s that electric feeling, like blue and red colliding and sparks flying all over them. That’s what it feels like. 

 

Louis smiles gently, his eyes downcast. Almost like he’d be nervous, shy, around Harry. 

“What do you want from me?” Harry asks back, truly interested to know what Louis thinks. He wants to know what made him change his mind, what made him stand up and stop Harry from leaving. What made him kiss Harry and what made him be like this, a complete opposite to the person Harry has seen all week in the studio. 

“You,” Louis simply says, like it’d be the simplest of answers. Like this would be the simplest of things to him. He’s looking at Harry, but then his eyes shy away once again. Almost as if he shouldn’t have said it. 

“You have me,” Harry hears himself say, and he instantly regrets it. He has always been brave, someone who is open with the people he’s with. He doesn’t hide his personality around the people who are more than friends. With Louis it’s different. It’s almost like he’s revealing another person to him, like he’s telling Louis the truth for the first time. 

He can’t look at Louis anymore. He lowers himself back on the bed and wishes the creatures on the ceiling would come and take him away. He knows his hand is close to Louis’ thigh and he wants to pull away, get a little distance between them. 

 

Louis’ face comes into Harry’s view, when he leans his body over Harry’s. Their noses are almost touching, Louis’ hair already tickling Harry’s forehead. 

Louis smiles, silently, calmly, letting Harry know that maybe he has wanted to hear those words for a long time already. He comes closer, his eyes closing and his forehead touching Harry’s. He breathes quietly, elaborately, and Harry breathes in everything Louis gives him. 

Harry tilts his chin forward, trying to get even closer, not wanting any room between them anymore. Harry can feel Louis’ bodyweight, when Louis shoulders and chest come to rest against Harry’s. He still feels like the lightest of feathers, making Harry open his eyes. 

Louis is already looking at him. His eyes look huge from this distance, when there’s no distance at all. Harry can’t help but smile, because he hasn’t had anything like this in a long time. Maybe he has never had something like this. Maybe this is all so new, that he can’t really understand what is really happening. 

He’s still smiling, when he closes his eyes. He can feel Louis’ eyes still staring, when he finally kisses Harry. Gently, almost not touching at all. Harry also knows when Louis closes his eyes, because his lashes brush against Harry’s cheek. Louis kisses him more desperately, not wanting to tease him any longer. 

 

A loud thud makes them jump apart. Louis is staring at his door, Harry is staring at Louis. 

“You said you’d be alone this weekend,” Harry hisses, nerves rushing through his body. 

“I thought I was,” Louis quickly glances at him, then he’s already jumping over Harry and off the bed. He combs his hair with his fingers and straightens his shirt, taking a deep breath in. 

“Stay here and don’t make any noise,” Louis warns Harry, before he opens the door and peeks outside. 

 

“Hello?” He says into the quiet apartment, and Harry can hear some muted sounds from the other end of the apartment. Louis closes his door and Harry is left alone. He’s afraid to even breathe, until he knows that no one is coming into Louis’ room. 

Slowly he sits up, and puts on his shoes. He knows he can’t stay. It’d be weird if he’d run into Niall or Aron, when supposedly he doesn’t have the best relationship with Louis. Or do they even know it, that they have been avoiding each other or whatever you’d like to call it?

 

There are fast steps thumping on the other side of the door. Harry panics for a moment, before he runs to the other side of Louis’ bed and ducks down. The door opens and closes. 

“Harry?” Louis’ voice is rushed. Harry looks over the edge of the bed, seeing Louis frantically signing him to be quiet. 

“What’s going on?” 

“It’s Niall, they had to come back because his girlfriend got ill.” Louis talks too fast and his voice is too rushed. It’s almost impossible for Harry to understand him. 

“I’m sorry but you have to get out, I don’t want him to know that you’re here,” he looks apologetic. Harry stands up and circles the bed. He makes sure he has everything, before he stands almost chest to chest with Louis. 

He grins at Louis, who smiles back and then he’s on his tiptoes kissing Harry. Harry wishes he could feel like this every second of every day. So happy that it feels like he’s just a big ball of light, beaming and throwing confetti around. 

“I’m going to distract Niall, so you can sneak out,” Louis says out of breath, his hands against Harry’s neck. Harry can only nod, while he tries to catch his breath. He feels excited, maybe even too excited, when he knows he could get caught with Louis. 

 

Louis opens the door and looks outside. He’s holding Harry’s hand, pulling him to come along. Niall is nowhere to be seen, and he could pop out from anywhere. They’re rushing through the kitchen area, when they hear a soft sound; a door. 

Harry ducks down again, against Louis’ legs, behind their dining table. 

“Niall!” Louis exclaims. 

“Shhh,” Niall shushes. Harry can see his feet coming closer, walking slowly towards the table. He stops on the other side, only a meter away from Harry. 

“Sorry,” Louis whispers, picking his phone from his pocket. 

“I was thinking of ordering some food, maybe I could get something for you too? Does Iris like soup? What kind of soup does she like?” Louis is talking too fast, and he’s clearly nervous. Harry squeezes his ankle and he realises that it might’ve been a bad decision. 

“Go ask if she’d like some soup and what kind,” Louis offers, much calmer. Maybe Harry did calm him down a bit. 

“Okay,” Niall turns away, but his voice clearly says that he’s suspecting something. They hear the door again, and Louis is already pulling Harry up. 

 

They run on their tiptoes towards the door, and Harry is happy he didn’t have anything else on him. Louis opens the door, and Harry sneaks out. Before Louis can close the door between them, Harry plants a kiss on his neck, because that’s the only spot he can reach when Louis is making sure Niall isn’t coming back from his room. Louis turns his face, his cheek brushing heavily against Harry’s. 

“I’ll text you,” Louis whispers, an excited smile on his face. Harry pulls back and the door closes. He feels like an idiot standing in the hall, smiling from ear to ear, staring at the door. 

He leaves when he has caught his breath, and when he can’t hear any sounds from inside anymore. He smiles all the way home, because he can’t fight the bubbling joy inside him. 

\- - 

Tuesday, 21.34

“ **You’re making me too happy** ”

“ _Is there a too happy?_ ”

“ **At least when it comes to flatmates who start to wonder if you’re high or if you’ve just met the love of your life** ”

 

21.49

“ _I think there’s also a third option_ ”

“ **What?** ”

“ _Getting dicked so good that you can’t walk straight_ ” 

“ **Watch your language!** ”

“ _I bet that also crossed your mind_ ”

 

21.58

“ _It definitely did!_ ”

“ **How can you know what I think even through texts?** ”

“ _I think it’s a gift_ ”

“ _Good or bad gift?_ ”

“ **Mainly good** ”

“ _Good_ ”

 

22.13

“ **But in all seriousness, what are we doing?** ”

“ _Texting?_ ”

“ **Haha... I mean what are we doing? Are we dating? Friends who kiss? Friends with benefits?** ”

 

22.26

“ _Okay, in all seriousness. We aren’t dating because we haven’t gone on any dates (yet). We might be friends who kiss, at least I consider us to be friends and we’ve kissed quite a bit already. FWB... Nah, you won’t get me before you take me out on a real date._ ”

“ **And what are the rules for a real date in your standards, Louis?** ”

“ _I won’t give you any answers, I like to see some creative effort_ ”

“ **Creative effort!** ”

“ _You’re a dancer, Harry, I’m expecting something extremely creative from you_ ”

“ **So a movie and dinner is not enough?** ”

“ _Who knows ;)_ ”

“ **Really?** ”

“ _If it’s a good movie and if the restaurant is nice, then I might think it’s enough_ ”

“ **Let’s see what I can come up with** ”

 

22.41 

“ **Do you want to keep this just between the two of us?** ”

“ _This, whatever it is?_ ”

“ **Yeah, as a secret or something** ”

“ _Am I completely shitty if I say yes?_ ”

“ **No** ”

“ _Because I don’t want people to stick their noses in my life or our lives and I don’t want to make this a big deal_ ”

“ **I get it** ”

“ _Okay, good_ ”

 

22.54

“ **Do you think this is not a big deal?** ”

“ _What?_ ”

“ **Do you think us getting together isn’t a big deal?** ”

 

23.04

“ _It’s a huge deal_ ”

“ _But I don’t want others to make an even bigger thing out of it, I don’t want us to feel any extra pressure from anyone else_ ”

“ **Okay** ”

“ _Do you feel like this is not a big deal?_ ”

“ **No** ”

“ _Okay_ ”

“ **Okay** ”

 

23.16

“ _Can I tell you something?_ ”

“ **Of course** ”

“ _This is going to be super embarrassing_ ”

“ **For who?** ”

“ _Me!_ ”

“ _And you can’t tease me when you know, promise?_ ”

“ **Okay, I promise** ”

 

23.23

“ _When we got paired up, I knew it would happen_ ”

“ **As in?** ”

“ _Niall told me he would do it and I didn’t stop him_ ”

“ **Really?** ”

“ _Yeah_ ”

“ **And why’s that?** ”

“ _I knew I shouldn’t have told you_ ”

“ **You have to tell me!** ”

“ _No! This was the thing I wanted to tell! Nothing more!_ ”

“ **You sure?** ”

“ _Yes_ ”

“ **You’re not just leaving me hanging here?** ”

“ _No_ ”

“ **Okay** ”

“ **But just so you know, I’m going to find out why one way or another** ”

“ _And what are those ways?_ ”

“ **I have to leave some things for myself so I can surprise you** ”

“ _I do like surprises..._ ”

“ **You do?** ”

“ _Yeah!_ ”

“ **Okay, good** ”

 

“ _What are you planning?_ ”

“ **Your gift of knowing what I’m thinking is not working!? Are you sure you haven’t broken your ability or used it too much?** ”

“ _Very funny, Harry_ ”

“ **;D** ”

“ _What’s with you and all those smileys?_ ”

“ **What’s with you and not using any smileys?** ”

“ _I laugh enough in reality_ ”

“ **And I don’t?** ”

“ _I’ve actually never heard you laugh_ ”

“ **Well that’s something to look forward to** ”

“ _Shut up_ ”

“ **I haven’t said anything!** ”

“ _You do know you can be quite annoying_ ”

“ **Is that so?** ”

“ _Yeah, very_ ”

“ **Tell me more** ”

“ _What, are you a therapist or something?_ ”

“ **Hello Louis, how are you doing today? What have you been thinking about this week?** ”

 

23.47

“ _My thoughts have definitely been a lot filthier than just thinking what your laugh sounds like_ ”

“ **Stop it you, it’s not professional to talk to your dance partner like this** ”

“ _SHUT UP HARRY!_ ”

 

23.58

“ _Harry?_ ”

“ **What?** ”

“ _Why didn’t you say anything?_ ”

“ **You told me to shut up** ”

“ _Fuck off!_ ”

“ **This is fun! :D** ”

“ _You’re infuriating_ ”

 

00.12

“ **If you want to know, my thoughts haven’t been rather PG 13 either** ” 

“ _Really?_ ”

“ **Really** ”

 

00.24

“ **Louis?** ”

“ _Hmmm?_ ”

“ **I want to take you out** ”

“ _Okay_ ”

“ **Are you free this week?** ”

“ _Uh, yeah, maybe... Friday?_ ”

“ **Okay! Is eight okay?** ”

“ _Yeah, sounds good_ ”

 

00.37

“ _You asked what we’re doing..._ ”

“ **Yeah?** ”

“ _I think we can move from ‘friends who kiss’ to ‘dating’ now_ ”

“ **I think so too** ”

 

00.46

“ _What about rehearsals?_ ”

“ **What about them?** ”

“ _What do you think if we’d keep everything to ourselves, nothing special in rehearsals, nothing inside the school walls?_ ”

“ **Yeah, it’s okay** ”

“ _You sure?_ ”

“ **Yes, why are you so unsure?** ”

“ _I just don’t want to be a jerk who wants to keep his… Special someone a secret. And I don’t know if you’d like people to know_ ”

“ **It’s fine with me, believe me** ”

“ _Okay_ ”

 

00.59

“ **I’d tell you if I’d want people to know** ”

“ _Okay, thanks_ ”

“ **So nothing to worry about** ”

“ _Thanks for understanding_ ”

“ **Louis, we’re not talking about getting a place together or getting married or having kids** ”

“ _I know, I know! I just feel really selfish for deciding the rules_ ”

“ **We have rules** ”

“ **Do we have a rule book?** ”

“ _What have I gotten myself into..._ ”

“ **Hopefully something you can enjoy** ”

“ _There’s no doubt about it ;)_ ”

“ **!!! Louis! Your first smiley!** ”

 

01.11

“ **Are you thinking about calling off our date?** ”

“ _Almost_ ”

“ **Don’t, I haven’t surprised you yet** ”

“ _There’s going to be a surprise?_ ”

“ **Of course!** ”

 

01.23

“ **Louis?** ”

 

01.38

“ _Sorry, I’m really tired, I can’t keep my eyes open anymore_ ”

“ **It’s really late anyway** ”

“ _Yeah_ ”

“ **I’ll see you tomorrow in rehearsals** ”

“ _Yeah_ ”

“ **Maybe we should practice the duo?** ”

“ _Mmhmm_ ”

 

01.54

“ **I know you’ll be surprised on Friday...** ”

 

02.01

“ **Louis, did you fall asleep again?** ” 

 

02.08

“ **I think you did... and I know you’ll see this in the morning, but goodnight, Louis** ”

 

02.16

“ **< 3**”

 

\- -

 

“Hi Nico!” Harry greets his friend, when he comes towards Harry.

“Hi to you too,” Nico narrows his eyes, his brows pulled together. 

“What?” 

“It’s not even 8 in the morning and you’re the happiest person I’ve seen today. I’m starting to think something has happened to you.” Nico pulls off his sweater and comes to sit next to Harry on the floor, to stretch. 

“What are you talking about?” Harry chuckles, bending over his left leg. 

“This whole week you’ve been like you’ve eaten the sun or something. I’m seriously starting to think that someone has skinned the real Harry and is wearing his skin over their own,” he shakes his head, pinching Harry’s arm. 

“Oww!” Harry exclaims, looking disgusted by Nico’s suspicions. 

 

“Why can’t I just be happy?” Harry asks, trying to calm his mind down. He talked with Louis until three in the morning last night over texts. And this morning he noticed that Louis had texted him already at six to tell him that he can’t wait to see Harry today. Now he can’t sit still and not think about Louis and when he’ll be in. 

“Of course you can be happy, I’m not telling you to be grumpy all the time. But I haven’t seen you this happy since… Well ever.” 

“I’m just in a good mood!” Harry tries to brush it off with a gentle laugh, but just then Louis walks in. And the words spill out like he would’ve just poked a hole into a water balloon and the water explodes on him. He clears his throat and turns his eyes away from Louis, trying to focus on the muscles in his thigh. 

“Okay…” Nico stretches the word out, doing his own warm up like any other day. 

 

Harry is staring at his foot. His ankle cracks and he rolls his foot to make sure his joints are ready for the day. Louis is on the other side of the room, facing Harry. He’s stretching too, his head against his knees. 

Harry knows he shouldn’t be looking, or staring, but he can’t turn his eyes away. Harry can see himself in the mirror and he can see how desperate he looks. Desperate to get Louis’ attention, to get him to look at Harry, to hear his voice. 

 

As if on cue Louis looks up. Like he would’ve thought about Harry, known exactly when to look at him. Just to see that Harry was already looking at him. Louis smiles gently, his eyes shining. Harry bites his lips together, but he can’t hide the grin. 

Louis looks away suddenly, turning away from Harry. 

“Is something going on with you two?” Nico leans towards Harry, his eyes wide. Harry looks away from Louis, not sure where to look. Not sure what to do. 

“Harry, has something happened?” Nico pressures, and when Harry glances towards him, his mouth is wide open and Harry just _knows_. 

 

“Nothing’s going on,” Harry tries to sound nonchalant, but his voice is too squeaky. 

“ _Oh my_! When? How?” Nico comes closer to Harry, his face almost too close to Harry’s. 

“There’s nothing to tell,” Harry can’t look at Nico, so he just tries to brush it all off. 

“Don’t lie! C’mon, it’s so clear something is going on. Have you two slept together? Are you two dating? Seeing each other exclusively?” 

“No!” 

“None of those things has happened. Nothing’s going on, believe me!” 

 

Nico goes quiet, and when Harry dares to glance at him, he’s almost shocked. Then his expression melts into a knowing smile. 

“I know you’re lying to me, something’s going on.” He just nods his head and smiles dumbly. 

“I’m not lying,” Harry hisses, hoping no one is hearing what they’re talking about. 

“I know you and Pixie are doing something. You wouldn’t be so weird about it if nothing would’ve happened.” He waves his hand in the air, still that stupid smile on his face that Harry would like to slap off. But _what_? 

 

“What did you call him?” Harry tries to understand the nickname. Nico looks at him like Harry would be lightyears behind Nico’s thought process. 

“Pixie?” 

“Yeah, why?” 

“Look at him! He’s kind of tiny and cute, but he clearly has a mischievous side and if you look at him a bit more closely, he does look like a character from some fantasy story,” Nico raises his brows, like it’d be the clearest way of seeing someone. Ever. 

“A character from a fantasy story?” Harry asks incredulous, not able to close his mouth or blink his eyes. 

“Yeah, he just has that quality,” Nico shrugs and lays on his back on the floor.

 

“So, when are you going to tell me what’s really happening between you and Pixie?” Nico whispers when Harry lays down next to him to stretch his back. 

“There’s nothing to tell, believe me.” Harry closes his eyes and pretends he doesn’t have to listen to Nico’s questions. 

“Yeah, right, you’re just two people throwing around ‘I want to fuck you’ looks,” Nico says it a bit too loudly and Harry can feel an involuntary whine escape his throat. 

“It’s not like that! And keep it down,” Harry cranes his neck to see if people are looking at them. At least no one seems to care. Especially Louis. Maybe he’s too far away anyway. 

Harry would want him to be closer though. Does he look a bit like a fantasy creature, someone with pointed ears and a bit of magic in him? Is Nico right after all? 

 

“What is it like then?” Nico cuts Harry’s thoughts short. 

“We’re just texting,” Harry says, knowing that he shouldn’t be saying anything. 

“And you can’t tell anyone about any of this, promise?” Harry gives Nico a warning glance. Nico looks way too excited to hear all the details. Maybe he thinks there’s something much dirtier on the way. 

“I promise, what else?” Harry just has to trust him. And who cares if Nico knows, he’s not going to say anything to anyone. And Harry has been kind of dying to tell someone about what’s happening. 

 

“It’s nothing more than texting. And on Saturday I went to his and we spent a bit of time together. But that’s it.” Harry feels good he got it out there.

“And I’m taking him out on Friday,” he whispers, feeling the excited nerves kicking in again. 

“Really, nothing more? You still haven’t had sex?” Nico sounds almost too perplexed. 

“No! It’s not like that!” Harry needs to silence Nico right now. He knows too much already and who knows who are listening! 

“But you’re going out on a date? So, you’re dating?” 

“Yeah… And I don’t know if you can really call it dating yet.” _Yes, you can_. 

“We’re just getting to know each other better before anything else happens.” _Harry is definitely ready to let something else happen._ But is Louis ready for that? 

 

Harry’s mind starts to drift away again, thinking about what Louis wants. Does he want to sleep with Harry? Does he just want some vanilla things, like hand-holding and kissing? They haven’t been together, just the two of them, after Saturday and they made a rule not to do anything in rehearsals. 

When they practised on Monday, Harry really wanted to kiss him badly, but Niall was there watching their progress. So, kissing was off the limits. And still is. But maybe it’s good to keep It professional here. Though, Louis does like surprises, so maybe Harry could organise some together time during rehearsals too. But would Louis like a surprise like that? 

 

“Harry!” Nico shakes his shoulder, his voice a loud whisper telling him that earth is calling. Harry sits up, Niall talking about something to the whole group. He nods his head at Harry when he makes himself present. 

Harry’s eyes drift to Louis instinctively and he finds Louis holding his hand over his mouth. Is he crying? His shoulders are shaking and his eyes look a little like they’d be tearing up. Maybe it’s the angle, because he’s looking down. Until he lifts his face and he’s looking at Harry. His eyes are too bright and joyful for him to be crying. When he takes his hand off his mouth, he’s still smiling like he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. 

Is Louis laughing at Harry? 

 

Harry raises his brows at him and Louis shakes his head discreetly, focusing on Niall who is still talking. Harry hasn’t heard anything he’s saying, but it can’t be anything too important. It’s probably just about them being a dance group and them dancing and… 

“… We can finally start practising at the stage next month.” Niall finishes and just like Harry thought, it’s not something that would shake his confidence. Niall gives Harry a look and narrows his eyes. Harry has to look away, but not before he notices Niall giving the same look to Louis. 

Does he know? 

“Let’s practice!” Niall claps his hands together and everyone gets on their feet. 

 

\- -

 

“You took me to Brooklyn as a surprise, now what?” Louis stands on the pavement, his arms folded over his chest. He doesn’t look too pleased.

“And we had a lovely dinner!” Harry walks back to him, his hands stroking Louis’ arms. 

“Yeah, okay, it was really nice,” Louis looks away, a bit too annoyed for Harry’s liking. 

“Hey, hey,” he turns Louis’ head gently, so Louis is looking Harry in the eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” Harry is really worried if he has done something wrong. What if Louis doesn’t like what he had planned? They went to movies, then came all the way to Brooklyn to eat at a rooftop restaurant, where you could see the Manhattan skyline. Is that something he doesn’t enjoy? 

 

“You were supposed to surprise me!” Louis shakes himself out from Harry’s touch. He starts walking away, making Harry run after him. 

“Okay, Louis,” Harry stops him by grabbing his hand and pulling him back. 

“I know I haven’t done anything major to surprise you, yet, because the surprise is back at my place,” Harry hopes Louis will still want to come to Harry’s. He has arranged Liam to be away for the weekend, and he even managed to keep it a secret why Liam had to go. Well, a pair of tickets to a movie festival in California was probably the deciding factor for Liam not to ask any questions, but still! 

 

“And I promise, even though our date has been quite non-surprising for now, you should at least see what I’ve planned for us,” Harry tries to give his best puppy dog eyes he can and he tries to be as charming as he can. But Louis looks unimpressed. He rolls his eyes, but sighs in defeat. 

“Okay, I’ll come see what you’ve done, but if I don’t like it, then I’ll leave.” 

 

“You do know you’re really demanding,” Harry chuckles, when they start to walk towards the subway again. 

“Me, demanding?” 

“Yeah! What do I have to do to impress you?” Harry starts to laugh when he sees Louis’ face. He looks seriously hurt. 

“You didn’t even kiss me when you came to pick me up! And you haven’t done anything half as romantic or even dirty considering what kind of messages you’ve sent me this week! You haven’t tried any of the moves people would expect from you!” Louis stops again, his words making Harry stop too. He’s looking at Louis and he gets it. 

Louis was really looking forward to this. He might play it cool at rehearsals and he might not admit it over texts, but now when Harry sees the hurt on Louis’ face, he realises how much this evening actually means to him. 

 

Harry takes the few steps back to meet Louis. He cups Louis’ face between his palms and kisses him, not holding back. He can taste the wine they had on Louis’ tongue and he can read between the lines how much Louis wants this. He wants to be with Harry. 

Louis’ hands circle around Harry’s waist and pull him gently closer. Harry can feel Louis’ cheeks heating up under his palms. Even the thought of having Louis surrender himself to Harry like this, makes Harry’s mind tangle up with thoughts of getting to be with Louis all the time. 

He wants to be with Louis so much that it’s physically painful. And he doesn’t even think about getting to see Louis naked in his bed (though, it has crossed Harry’s mind more than once), it’s about being in the same space as Louis. He wants to watch TV with Louis. He wants to listen to music while Louis sits next to him, reading a book. And he wants to cook while Louis tells him about the things he saw or heard during the day. It’s so stupid to even think about it, but Harry can’t help himself. 

 

Louis pulls away to breathe, his eyes still closed. His cheeks are flushed and he licks his lips, wanting to make sure the taste of Harry is still on his lips. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t kiss you when I came to get you,” Harry says quietly, looking at Louis, desperate to see his eyes. He’s breathing heavily and his lashes flutter. 

“I can forgive you,” Louis finally looks at Harry and his eyes are glassy. He chuckles, almost dazed to be here with Harry. 

 

“And I haven’t tried anything, because I don’t know what you like in public, and I definitely won’t try any _dirty_ things while we’re out here, because I’d prefer to get you all to myself.” 

Louis starts to laugh, a hearty, comfortable laugh that makes Harry smile like a person who has just discovered the secret to perfect life. 

“Take me to yours and then you can try everything you like,” Louis laughs even more, and his words make Harry’s breath catch in his throat. 

“Well, not everything, but some things…” Louis calms his laughter for a few seconds to see Harry’s face, but then he starts to laugh again. And just like that Harry feels like this is the best date he has ever been on. 

 

They get on the subway and they stay stood, gripping one of the poles next to the doors. There are quite a bit of people and they have to stand glued to each other. Harry’s hand is half on top of Louis’ and he feels like even that simple touch is too much. His bones ache from getting to be so close to Louis, but still too far away. 

Harry catches Louis looking at him a few times, and every time Louis turns his eyes away with a smile on his face. 

 

“What are you thinking about?” Harry whispers in Louis’ ear, making Louis lean a little closer with every word. His eyes are wide and Harry knows his face is the epitome of flirty. 

“What would make you kiss me right now,” Louis whispers back. Harry thought he’d say something much riskier or something sarcastic. Not something so innocent and lovely. 

“All you have to do is ask,” Harry doesn’t know why he says it. Louis doesn’t need to ask. He only has to look at Harry, and he could have Harry on his knees in a nanosecond. 

“Really?” Louis raises his brows, his face perfectly angled for Harry to lean down. Harry hesitate for just a second, before he kisses Louis, his hand gripping the pole even tighter. His other hand rests on Louis’ lower back. Louis leans against Harry’s body, and Harry can feel Louis smiling against his lips. 

 

The next stop is announced and people start to stand up and pack towards the doors. Harry has to pull back from Louis so they can move aside from the wave of people. There’s a couple looking at them, and when Harry notices them watching, the couple smiles at him. 

“We were just admiring your boyfriend's jacket,” the guy says, the girl nodding her head. 

“Uh, thanks,” Harry says, his eyes drifting to Louis. He doesn’t know what else to say, and Louis’ cheeks are burning. 

“Have a nice evening,” the couple wishes. Louis replies something back, Harry far away from the exchange. Are they boyfriends? They haven’t talked about it. Maybe it’s too early anyway. They’re just dating, nothing more. Dating doesn’t mean they’re together, does it? 

 

The doors close behind the couple and the air between Louis and Harry is instantly more awkward. Louis steps discreetly away from Harry, looking the other way. 

“You know, we don’t have to talk about it yet,” Harry tells him, and Louis clearly knows what he means. 

“You think?” 

“Yeah, if you don’t want to?” 

“No, no, not yet,” Louis chuckles, shaking his head. 

“Then we won’t,” Harry gives a light laugh, feeling even more awkward. 

“We’re just dating anyway,” Louis says, almost points out, like he’s reminding Harry that this doesn’t mean they’re anything more. At least not yet. 

“Yeah, exactly!” Harry knows he sounds too excited considering what they’re talking about. Louis doesn’t say anything else, and Harry feels like tonight has just been ruined. 

 

“Next stop is mine,” Harry says, more in a questioning tone than telling Louis they have to get off the train. Louis nods and smiles, and Harry smiles back. He has to swallow down the desperate screams that threaten to burst out. This night can’t take a turn like this! This was supposed to be perfect, not awkward and weird. 

They step off the train and Harry leads them to his place. Louis tries to make some small talk about all the boutiques in this part of the city, but every word he says falls flat and Harry doesn’t know what to say back. Louis quiets down and they walk in silence, until they reach Harry’s apartment block. 

 

“This is where you live?” Louis asks, following Harry through the door and into the hallway. 

“Yeah,” Harry says, checking his mailbox out of habit. Nothing there. 

“You live with Liam, right?” 

“Yeah, but he’s not here,” Harry starts to get nervous about what he has planned for the rest of the evening. What if it’s really bad now when the mood has taken a turn for the worse. He doesn’t want Louis to leave yet, but he feels like Louis will do just that when he sees Harry’s surprise. 

 

They climb the stairs and Harry jingles his keys in his hand. 

“Louis, I don’t know if this’ll be really stupid and if you hate it. If you don’t like it, then you can just leave, okay?” Harry turns to Louis at his door. 

“Okay, but can I please decide it for myself?” Louis smiles, and he looks a bit more relaxed than he was before. 

“Okay,” Harry breathes the word out, and turns back towards the door, opening it. 

 

It’s dark inside, but Harry can see the small glimmering of the disco ball he hung up on the ceiling of their living room. He lets in Louis first, smiling awkwardly. Louis steps in and Harry would like to close the door and wait for Louis to first check the surprise and then let Harry in if he likes it. If he doesn’t like it, then he can just run out and never talk to Harry again. 

But he doesn’t do that. He follows Louis in, and for some reason, he doesn’t put on any of the lights. Louis gets into the living room, Harry following him slowly. 

“I know it’s stupid,” Harry says quietly, self-conscious of his attempted surprise. 

Louis turns to him, and even in the dark Harry can see the smile on his face. 

 

“What are you talking about?!” He exclaims, walking over to Harry and taking Harry’s hands into his. 

“Now, tell me, are we supposed to dance disco or what?” Louis laughs and his voice makes Harry finally feel that familiar comfortable happiness settle over them. 

“I thought we could drink something, and then we can dance or do whatever we want,” when he has finished talking, he knows how creepy he sounds. Like he would’ve gotten Louis here to get Louis drunk and then they can _“dance”_. 

 

“I like the drinking part very much,” Louis smiles, and walks right in the middle of the living room, where Harry has pushed the couch next to the wall and made a nice space for them to do whatever comes to mind. 

He can’t help but feel like he’s only thinking about getting Louis undressed and having sex with him right here on the living room carpet. Liam won’t like that, that’s for sure. Maybe he needs the alcohol too, to calm himself down. 

“Where can I leave my shoes and jacket?” Louis asks under the disco ball, that goes around slowly and make Louis look like a… Like a… Damn that Nico and his nickname for Louis. Like a fucking pixie, Harry thinks and slaps himself mentally. 

“Just give them to me,” Harry tells him, and Louis does as he’s told. He takes off his shoes and jacket and then he’s standing there, waiting for Harry to do _something_.

 

Harry takes Louis’ stuff to the hallway and takes off his own boots and jacket. He hears faint music playing, realising it’s coming from the sound system. It’s the song he likes to dance to when he’s alone. He puts on lights, not the brightest, but the ones that make the disco ball glimmer magically. 

He finds Louis nodding his head by the vinyl player, looking at the records on the shelf. 

“I didn’t know people still listen to these,” Louis glances at Harry, intrigued, smiles, and then goes back to browsing through the records. 

“But it doesn’t surprise me that you like David Bowie,” Louis chuckles, playing the song again, when it comes to an end. 

 

“Want a drink?” Harry asks him, when Louis has been reading the book spines from Harry’s bookshelf. 

“Yeah,” he doesn’t even look at Harry. He picks a book from the shelf, reading the back cover. 

 

Harry is pouring them some liqueur he has been saving. He doesn’t even know why he has saved it. Maybe he thought he’d have a party where he could take it. Maybe he thought there’d be a special occasion. This can be counted as a special occasion. He’s listening to one of his favourite songs and Louis is here. 

He takes a sip from his glass, pouring some more for himself. Hands snake around his waist from behind, making Harry’s hand jump and the drink spills on the table. 

 

“Harry, can I tell you something?” Louis asks quietly, his voice rough. Louis clears his throat, and Harry can feel Louis leaning his head against his back. 

“Okay,” Harry doesn’t want to sound so unsure as he now does, but he can’t help it. 

“I didn’t tell Niall to not pair us up because I wanted to dance with you,” he says, almost whispers, and his voice is almost drowned out by Bowie’s singing. 

“What?” Harry turns in Louis’ arms, and he can see how hesitant Louis looks. 

“Niall knew I liked you, so I let him pair us up to be a duo,” Louis swallows visibly. 

 

“You… You liked me?” Harry feels like he can’t trust his own ears. 

“Yeah.” Louis tries to pull his arms away, to get away from Harry, but Harry doesn’t let him. 

“You liked me already when I told you the first time?” 

“Yes,” he doesn’t look at Harry anymore. Is this even real? 

 

“Louis?” Harry feels like bursting into flames. Louis looks like he wants to run away. 

“I’m glad I didn’t have to do anything else to get the truth. Though I had planned some surprises there too, but… Now I can use them on some other occasion,” he laughs, but he can still see the way Louis is standing there, in front of him, uncertain of himself. Uncertain if this was the right thing to do. Harry pulls him closer by his waist until Louis is leaning against him. 

“It just took me a bit longer to realise that I like you,” Harry brushes his mouth against Louis’ ear, saying the words like it’d be a declaration of love. Louis leans his head against Harry’s shoulder, his hands holding onto Harry tightly. 

Harry mouths his neck, wanting to say so much more, but decides against it. He needs to hold onto something, he needs to stop himself from saying too much. He doesn’t want to scare Louis away. 

 

“Is Liam away for the whole weekend, he won’t come here unexpected?” Louis asks, his hands travelling up to Harry’s neck. 

“He won’t bother us,” Harry nods, feeling Louis kiss his jaw. 

The song changes. It burns to have Louis so close. Harry feels sweat droplets forming on his back, and his hands feel numb. 

 

The drinks stay on the table over the night. Darkness falls, and the song plays to its end, until there’s just silence. The small disco ball goes round and round, slowly glowing and making everything a little more special. 

Harry’s bed is on fire, his whole room is on fire. The door is closed, even when it’s unnecessary. The four walls are filled with noises and voices, which will play on repeat in Harry’s head. The men he has had in here have never made him feel this way. Nothing ever reminds Harry of them. But now when Louis is here, he has marked everything as his own. Everything in Harry’s room will remind Harry of Louis from now on. 

Even in darkness Harry can see him, feel him, hear him. He’s swimming in Louis’ eyes and at the same time he’s flying, until his head is screaming him to take a breath. He feels lightheaded and heavy, tired and new. Louis’ skin keeps him grounded, here, feeling and living. 

He hears Louis’ heart beating under his ear. And he has never heard a sound more beautiful. 

 

\- -

 

Louis knows Harry has fallen asleep. He’s combing his fingers through Harry’s hair, hugging his body close to his own chest. But he can’t close his eyes in this place. Not when his head is telling him to get out quickly and his heart is telling him to stay. 

He didn’t plan this, even though he knew it would happen. He didn’t plan to be honest, but he was. And he didn’t plan to sleep with Harry, at least not yet. And he didn’t plan to feel this way, but here he is. 

 

He feels heavy, numb all over. He wants to stay here, with Harry, until the end of time. He wants to stay in this bubble, where they can listen to music and lay under a disco ball and get swallowed in Harry’s bed. He wants it so bad. 

And then he doesn’t want it. He wants other things. He wants London. The call plays in his head. The one, that told him that he got to the second stage of entrance exams. He can’t stop thinking about the new choreography he has been working on. He can’t stop thinking about the audition that’s in a month. And he can’t stop thinking about packing all his stuff and leaving New York behind. 

 

When he leaves New York, he’ll also leave Harry. Even when he doesn’t know if he’s going to get the spot, he’s already planning to go. He’s making a mental checklist of what he has to remember when he moves away. 

And that list doesn’t include Harry. It doesn’t include a relationship. It doesn’t include his feelings. It’s all business. 

He feels Harry’s hair in his hands and he feels Harry’s heart beat against his skin. He wishes he could go back in time and tell Niall to not pair them up. He wishes he could tell Niall a good reason, why Niall can’t make him and Harry dance together. He wishes he could take back everything. 

 

He just doesn’t have a time machine. He can’t do anything. And it hurts. It hurts even more, because he knows he’s going to get hurt. He’s not going to get hurt by Harry, no. His fear of getting disappointed is not going to come true, because he’s only hurting himself. He did this to himself. And he can only blame himself, when he gets on that plane and goes back home, leaving Harry behind. 

And his heart with Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you think?  
> Next chapter is going to be a monster, I know it already. 
> 
> Please let me know what you thought either here or on [Tumblr](https://shadowofyoursong.tumblr.com/), I'd love to hear your thoughts :) 
> 
> See you next Saturday, 14.10.
> 
> EDIT: Well hello hello! It should be update day, but guess what! My laptop is being its old shitty self and it deleted everything. So, I'll give you the chapter, when I've rewritten it. I can't give you a day when that will happen, because I just lost about 10k words on the 7th chapter and I had written it for days now. I feel sooooooo bad right now, because I truly wanted to share it with you already, but maybe the universe is working against me right now. So, I'll be back with an update when I can get it ready. Once again, sorry, if you were waiting for it <3 <3


	7. London

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well hello hello!  
> Here it is, finally, the seventh chapter. Sorry, that I wasn't able to post last weekend, but I'm here now and this will set everything up for the last chapter. It's also really odd to think that this fic is almost over and it's so hard to even think about ending this. 
> 
> I have to thank my friend, SugarlessNiall ([happythoughtslivelonger](http://happythoughtslivelonger.tumblr.com/) on tumblr) for reading through this and the 6th chapter. She has been a huge help :) Before her, I've been helped by my other friend, itsdreamwriting ([backtobeingus](http://backtobeingus.tumblr.com/) on tumblr), and she has always been my go-to proofreader. Thank you, both <3  
> Also, I'd like to thank everyone who have already commented or given me kudos. I love you all and you encourage me to keep writing and finishing this story. 
> 
> Now, to the [music](https://open.spotify.com/user/_hally_/playlist/2kKSzW4hPkbDp3YjKECNeE)!  
> The White Birch / Love, Lay Me Blind  
> Bon Iver / Michicant  
> Amber Run / I Found  
> X Ambassadors / Unsteady  
> The XX / Performance  
> Zola Jesus / Avalanche  
> Dan Caplen / Blinded By The Lights  
> The Neighbourhood / Sweater Weather (Spotify Sessions)
> 
> Happy reading!

There’s a light touch, the lightest, Louis has ever felt on his skin. It spreads from his forehead to his jaw, following the lines of his lips, then his nose. It tickles, and at the same time, it’s comforting to feel it. To know that he’s so close to someone, that it feels safe, not creepy. He’s so close to Harry. To the man, he thought he could never have, never be with. 

Harry’s body is pressed against his, warming his side, making it too hot under the thick duvet. He likes it though, he likes the heat. The soft touch on his face adds to the warmth, making him sweat and feel butterflies in his stomach. 

He knows he’s smiling, and he knows Harry can see it. He knows Harry knows he’s awake. There’s no hiding. Not in this bed, where he can feel his muscles finally relaxing. It’s like he’s floating on a cloud, and he doesn’t have to be alone. He’s not alone in New York anymore. It’s a foreign feeling, but he lets it take over. 

 

He smells the minty freshness in Harry’s breath, wondering how long he has been sleeping. He blinks his eyes open, and is greeted by Harry’s smiling face. Tranquil and happy. Mostly happy. It’s so clear on Harry’s face. Louis has never seen him look like this, he has never even thought someone could look that content. 

It’s dark in the room, a single light on in the corner of the room. It doesn’t illuminate the room drastically, just that one corner. Harry’s arm is wrapped around Louis, lying there against his bare skin. He leans his head down against the pillows, breathing deep. 

Louis turns in his arms, so he’s facing Harry. For the first time, he feels extremely exposed and naked, not only because he’s naked, but because it is _Harry_ who he’s in bed with. He has already seen Louis, there’s no hiding now, but Louis still feels like wanting to pull the cover over him until only his head peeks out. 

 

Harry has closed his eyes, his breathing slowing down with every breath he takes. Louis moves a little closer, their legs tangling together. For some reason, it comforts him to know that Harry’s not wearing anything either. But he has clearly taken a shower, because he smells different. Soapy, Louis thinks. And that makes Louis feel almost disgusted with himself. 

He’s sticky with sweat, that has dried on his skin, and his blood is pumping hot under his skin, producing new sweat droplets to form. He hasn’t brushed his teeth and his hair feels like it’s sticking against his scalp. He knows he needs to take a shower too, he wants to, but he doesn’t want to move. 

The uneasy feeling of losing Harry starts to stir in the pit of his stomach. It reminds Louis that he’s preparing to leave Harry, leave New York, and not look back. He doesn’t want to miss any of these moments he has with Harry, and at the same time, he feels like he shouldn’t be such a masochist. It’s not healthy. He hates this, and likes this, at the same time. 

 

“Harry, what’s the time?” Louis whispers. He doesn’t want to talk too loudly, even with his normal voice, because it’d just probably hurt his ears. Even whispering seems too loud in this quietness of breathing and night. He knows it still has to be night, it doesn’t seem like it’s already morning. 

“Around four,” Harry answers with his mouth mushed against his pillow. He sounds drowsy, falling asleep any second. 

“Okay.”

Louis stares at the light in the corner. He can almost hear the light bulb under the lampshade. The more he stares at it, the more he starts to feel like he needs to move. Like he needs to do something. He glances at Harry, who looks like he has fallen back asleep. 

 

Slowly, carefully, Louis sits up. He keeps looking at Harry, making sure he’s not going to wake Harry up. It’s a foreign feeling of being this careful. Louis hasn’t had to worry about anyone else in so long, be careful around someone in so long, that he’s almost moving comically slow. 

His brain is reminding him he’s naked in someone else’s apartment, and that now it would be a great time to put on something. He looks at the piles of clothes on the floor, his and Harry’s clothes mixing together. In the dim light, he’s poking through a pile that looks like it could hold their underwear in. And like he thought, he finds his own. 

 

Walking in an apartment, where he’s for the first time, is almost like he’d be intruding someone’s personal space. Though he has definitely been in Harry’s personal space now, it’s still a little awkward for him to try and find the bathroom. He opens a door into another bedroom, probably Liam’s, and another to a closet, before he finds the right one. 

The door is ajar. He can feel the moisture in the air, escaping and erasing any signs of Harry taking a shower. Louis fumbles the wall for a light switch, until he manages to find one and the light turns on over the sink and a mirror. Harry’s towel is hanging on a heated rack, still damp after him. Louis doesn’t know where else he could look for a towel, so he decides it’s the second-best option. He pulls off his briefs, wondering why he even put them on in the first place. Why is he so shy about being naked around Harry, the guy has already seen _everything_. 

 

He remembers his mouth. He really needs to brush his teeth. He turns towards the sink, seeing himself from the mirror for the first time. He can’t even remember when he looked like this the last time. So… content? 

Harry’s expression from before is etched on his face as well, making his stomach flip. His hair is sticking out in every direction, his cheeks are pink and his lips look like they’ve been bitten a hundred times (maybe even more). His skin looks like every inch has been kissed, light hickeys here and there. 

But his eyes. They’re the most different. They’re open, like he’d be an open book, ready to give out an answer to any question anyone would ask right now. He can’t even say that it’s happiness he sees in his own eyes, because it’s something so much more. 

It is happiness mixed with bliss and ecstasy and elation and euphoria. He has never seen himself like this. He has never even known he could look like this. Like his eyes would be like this. He has never known someone could make him look like this, feel this way. 

At the same time, he’s reminded that he doesn’t know Harry that well. That he should maybe talk with him, ask him some deep questions like what is his family like and if he misses something from London. Louis remembers a moment, when they had just started to work as a duo. He asked Harry why he came to New York. Back then he knew Harry was lying, he still knows. Maybe he could ask about that. Or not, maybe it’s something Harry doesn’t want to share. And that’s completely fine with Louis! He doesn’t have to know everything. He just wants to know something; something that makes Harry the person he is. 

 

He leaves his reflection in the mirror and walks into the shower cubicle standing in the corner of the bathroom. He lets the hot water beat his back, wash away the sweat that had dried on his skin, and Harry’s touch, which makes Louis miss it more. Miss Harry more. 

Even though he’s in his own bed and Louis is in his shower, he’s still so far, even though he’s so close. He uses a shampoo, that he thinks is Harry’s based on the smell. He uses it to wash his body too, too tired to start thinking about standing in the shower for longer. 

Harry’s towel feels warm on Louis’ skin, when he dries himself. He hangs it on the warm rack once again, turning back towards the sink. There’s an electric toothbrush on the edge, which Louis thinks belongs to Harry. At least it’s wet. He’s afraid he’s going to wake Harry up with the noise, but then he remembers that he didn’t hear anything when Harry was here, brushing his teeth. Maybe the noise sounds loud only to him. 

 

He looks at his briefs on the floor. He feels stupid now, seeing them lonely and crumbled, just reminding him of his own insecurities. He picks them up but doesn’t wear them. Before he leaves the bathroom, he’s reminded that he’s in someone else’s apartment, naked, fresh after a shower. 

What if Liam would be here, and he’d catch Louis. At least he knows Liam isn’t here and he won’t be coming back anytime soon, but still, even the thought is kind of terrifying. And kind of thrilling. 

 

Louis tiptoes back into Harry’s room and drops his underwear on the same pile he picked them up from. Harry is sleeping the way Louis left him, his face half mushed against his pillow. His fingers are twitching, which reminds Louis of a dog that’s dreaming of running. Maybe Harry is dreaming of dancing. 

He gets into bed, carefully laying down next to Harry. He feels so much better now that he has had a shower and he brushed his teeth. Those are the only things he always does, every evening. Maybe he’s a bit neurotic about it. 

Someone might think it’s a bit weird that he does it _every_ evening, but for him it’s comforting. For him it’s a way of keeping himself grounded, remind him that once again a day is over. That now he can relax, before he needs to be ready for whatever’s to come tomorrow. He realises he’s yet again staring at the light in the corner, like that would be the thing that reminds him where he is, who he is, who he’s with. 

 

Will it be like this back in London too? If he gets in, that is. Will he do the same things, he has done here? Will he get a shower every evening, just to get his sore muscles to relax? Will he be able to sleep, knowing that he could be sleeping next to someone else? Will he remember the way he looked through Harry’s bathroom mirror, when he’s alone again? Will he ever feel like that, like this, again? What if he won’t? 

Is London a mistake after all? It doesn’t feel like a mistake, it’s something he has wanted for so long. He always thought it’d be more realistic to get to move back to London, than to get something going on with Harry. 

Harry was always something he didn’t have. Just a thought, a crush. Louis imagined what it’d be like to wake up next to him or walk to the studio together. He always thought that it was going to stay that way, just a thought, that could never come true. And now he’s here, in Harry’s bed. And he wants to hide it all. 

He doesn’t want anyone to know, he’s not even letting himself know what’s going on. He can’t because London was and still is the more realistic dream. Anything could go wrong, which makes it hard for him to trust Harry or that they’d be a couple. He can always trust his own skills. 

Sometimes he wonders if he’s being too arrogant, but it has kept him here so far. If he believes in himself, that he can achieve the things he wants, he will get it. Like the way, he always wanted to study in Juilliard. He aimed towards it, he got in and now he wants to get rid of it. No more Juilliard for Louis. 

 

But what about Harry? Does he think the same way? What does he think is happening with him and Louis? Louis is most certain that Harry does like him, but how much? Is this just a fun thing for them, like any other partner he’s been with? 

Maybe those questions scare Louis the most, especially the Louis that stood in the mirror. His heart is vulnerable, an easy target, and anyone could step on it and crush it. If Louis thinks about the person he thinks he’s with Harry, that Louis is someone who can’t be hurt. Who’s just keeping things casual, who just likes to hang out with Harry. Nothing can happen to him, because he’s prepared for everything. 

At the same time, those two people are mixing together, mixing those feelings together. Vulnerability and strength, feelings and keeping it light. He can’t get stronger feelings towards Harry, than they already are, just because he’d be screwed at that point. He can’t start seeing that mirror-Louis every time he thinks about himself with Harry. This is just a fling, he won’t catch stronger feelings, and he’ll be fine. 

Though he knows that those words he’s telling himself don’t mean anything at this point, because he can only see and feel that mirror-Louis. 

 

“What are you thinking about?” Harry’s rough voice asks, whispering. Louis didn’t even notice that he woke up. 

“Sorry, just go back to sleep,” Louis attempts a half smile, but his mind is too crowded for it to seem sincere. He doesn’t even look at Harry, only the corner where there’s light. Like the light could bring some clarity to his thoughts as well. 

Harry doesn’t answer and for a moment Louis already believes that Harry has gone back to sleep. That he can’t see the inner turmoil Louis is going through. But he’s wrong, because the next thing he knows is when Harry leans over him, his arm next to Louis’ head. 

He looks worried, and his body is pulsing with warm energy. The way Louis can feel Harry’s body against his own, makes him forget the lamp. He’s brought back into this room, into this bed, into the dip of the bed, where his body lays. He’s here, in his own head, in the breathing between his own mouth and Harry’s. He’s here, in Harry’s eyes, looking at himself through them, seeing that everything’s not okay. 

“You can tell me,” Harry’s gentle voice shivers in Louis’ spine. His fingers are playing with the ends of Louis’ damp hair. Louis has to look away from Harry’s eyes, they’re too intense. Like he could read every thought Louis has in his mind. 

 

“I’m just thinking…” He needs to breathe out everything he has in his lungs and take a new breath in. He’s too nervous to be saying this out loud. He closes his eyes and begins again. 

“I’m just thinking that… we don’t know each other that well…” 

_I’m just thinking about where we are. What are we, Harry? I’d want to be your boyfriend; would you like to be mine? I’d want to wake up next to you and tell people and we could go on dates without being afraid someone we know will see us. I want you to be mine, mine only. Am I asking too much? Am I being unreasonable? Please tell me what you think, what you think about me, what you think about us._

 

Of course, Louis can’t ask or say the things he truly wants. Of course, he can’t be honest about this, when he’s pledging himself to only have fun. They’re only having fun! That’s what he wants, not a real, full-blown relationship with Harry. A relationship that could evolve into something, like future plans and _“what do you think will happen to us in the next five years?”_. 

He can’t think that because it’s not part of his plan. It’s not part of who he is right now. Everything has already been planned. And there’s no space for a boyfriend, even if it’d be Harry. Why would he want there to be space for Harry, when he knows that a successful relationship won’t work if they’re living on different continents. 

It might be okay at first, but then they’d start to have so many other things to do than talking on skype or facetiming each other every day. Soon the calls would change into texts, and the texts into not texting at all. And then they’d just break up, because they wouldn’t know each other anymore. They’d be strangers being in a relationship. 

He doesn’t want to have things end with Harry like that. And he doesn’t want to hurt himself like that, either. 

 

Harry leans back down, against his own pillow. He looks like he’s thinking it through, trying to find if it’s true or not. Louis also knows when he does find an answer, because he turns to look at Louis with narrow eyes. 

“What do you want to know?” He asks, inviting, his voice like velvet. 

“I don’t know!” Louis gasps, thrown off by Harry’s openness. Louis can’t just ask him anything, he needs to ease into it. 

“The lamp didn’t give you any questions?” Harry chuckles, his head nodding towards the light in the corner. 

“Haha, very funny,” Louis rolls his eyes. Harry leans back in, his leg resting between Louis’. 

“Just ask me something,” Harry smiles encouragingly, his eyes sleepy. 

“I don’t know what to ask, I don’t want to ask something that you don’t want to answer to,” Louis can feel his heart beating faster, dreading that Harry feels it too. He doesn’t know if it’s because he wants to know more, but doesn’t know what he wants to know, or if it’s purely because Harry is so close. 

 

“Let me decide that,” Harry tells him, lifting the nervousness from Louis’ mind. 

“Okay…” Louis starts to think. Should he ask something about Harry’s family, or his friends? What about his boyfriends? Every question could be extremely awkward, especially if Harry doesn’t want to give an answer to any of the questions Louis would really want to ask. 

 

He turns towards Harry, their legs tangling together even more. 

“What’s your favourite colour?” Harry bursts out laughing, and Louis feels silly right away. 

He knows he shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be asking any questions that could get him to like Harry even more. He should ask Harry questions that would make him hate Harry. But what are those questions? Are there any? 

“Okay, my favourite colour… orange.” Harry looks serious, when a calm smile has settled on his face. 

“Orange?” 

“Yeah, it reminds me of beginning and of ending.” 

“How can orange do that?” 

“When the sun rises, the first colours are always hues of orange. When it sets, there’s always orange in the sky. When summer turns to autumn and autumn to winter, everything’s kind of orange.” 

“That’s deep,” Louis teases, just wanting to hear Harry speak more. He wants to hear Harry’s voice, the low rumble, slowly filling his every nerve. 

 

“I’ll show you deep,” Harry buries his face against Louis’ neck, kissing him down from his ear to his shoulder, his throat and collarbone. He settles between Louis’ legs, looking down at Louis, who can’t and doesn’t want to do anything else at this point. 

He just wants to look at that beautiful man on top of him, whose hair is reaching towards Louis with the ends curling. Whose eyes are sparkling even in the dark. And who makes Louis feel safe. 

Louis’ hands rest on Harry’s hips, his fingers pulling him closer. Slowly Harry leans down, his lips touching Louis’, then his cheek, the corner of his eye and brow, his temple, before he’s back to kissing Louis’ eager lips. His breathing is getting heavier, making Louis stroke his hands up and down Harry’s sides. 

 

“Ask me something else,” Harry breathes into Louis’ ear, before he’s gently sucking a hickey on his shoulder. 

“Why can’t we just keep doing this?” Louis really can’t find any coherent questions anymore, like Harry would’ve wiped them from his memory once and for all. 

“Because I want to ask you something in return,” Harry removes his lips from Louis’ skin, leaning against his forearms just to wait for the next question. He’s grinding his hips gently against Louis, making him think about everything else other than some stupid questions. Until one, that he has been wondering for a long time, comes back into his mind. 

 

“Why did you break up with your last boyfriend? If you loved him, why didn’t you stay together?” 

Harry stops moving immediately. His expression goes from teasing to blank. He’s staring at Louis, while Louis waits with his heart in his throat. This was a bad idea. 

“Sorry, don’t answer, I’m sorry, forget that the question even came out of my mouth,” Louis touches Harry’s cheek, trying to get back into the easy atmosphere. 

But Harry can’t. Slowly he sits up, his eyes falling shut. Louis can’t just leave it at that, he needs to fix it. He’s the one who brought it up, he doesn’t want to see Harry like this for a question he asked. 

Louis follows, his legs against Harry’s sides. He wraps his arms around Harry’s neck, tasting the air between them. 

 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” he whispers, before he softly kisses Harry. With a sigh Harry gives in, his arms wrapping around Louis’ back. He traces lines against Louis’ spine, which almost tickle, but in a way, it’s too intimate for him to think it’s funny. It’s rather serious, like Harry would try to keep himself okay by feeling Louis’ skin in his hands. 

“It’s something I don’t really talk about,” Harry whispers, when Louis leans his head against Harry’s shoulder. 

“And we don’t have to talk about it.” 

“Maybe I still should…” 

“Just forget that I asked about it,” Louis wants Harry to feel better. He doesn’t want to corner Harry to talk about something that so clearly bothers him. 

“No, I won’t, because it’s something you must’ve thought about.” Harry’s voice makes Louis look into Harry’s eyes. He doesn’t dare say anything else, if Harry will say something. If he truly _wants_ to say something. 

 

Harry takes a breath in, then lets it out, taking another in and holding it. 

“I don’t know why it’s so hard,” Harry shakes his head slowly, letting the air from his lungs out. Louis has to lean back, when Harry hides his face into his hands and his arms come to rest on Louis’ knees.

“He was my duo partner the year I had started in the group. He was older than me and he just made an impression on me that I fell for.” 

First Harry can’t look Louis in the eye, but when he does, he looks almost sorry. Well, that makes sense why he doesn’t want to talk about it with Louis, especially with Louis. Because he has been in this same situation. 

“So, you were like me?” Louis asks, his voice too cheery. 

“I guess so,” Harry chuckles joylessly, his hands dropping from his face and resting against Louis’ hips. 

 

“He was very charming and lovable, in my eyes, everyone had a crush on him. I didn’t know why we even got together in the first place, because I was a few years younger than him and we were quite different.” 

Harry is studying Louis’ face, trying to read his expression and figure out what Louis is thinking. Louis knows this only because every word Harry says, his eyes become just a bit more intense than they were a few seconds earlier. 

“Everyone knew we were together, even though we didn’t tell anyone. But we didn’t even try to hide it. Fast forward to the performance, it was over, everything was fine and we were done with school for the year. He graduated, so he started to plan his future. I was and wasn’t part of it, I just was there to hold his hand. We grew apart; we were together, but we didn’t enjoy it.” 

Harry stays quiet for a while, his eyes drifting away from Louis’ face. 

“I cheated him, and he got a job from LA. I told him what I had done over a text, when he was leaving. And that was it, we were done.” 

 

Louis swallows hard, and is reminded why he can’t have any feelings towards Harry. He didn’t know that Harry had cheated on his ex, but he also doesn’t seem like a person who commits to someone. 

“I don’t blame you for being careful with me, because I know people talk. I don’t know what they’ve told you, but if I were you, I would’ve probably stayed the hell away from me,” Harry doesn’t even pretend he’s saying it to lighten the mood. He’s being serious. 

“No one told me about your relationship, they just told me that you were horrible in your second year.” Louis doesn’t even want to think what they could’ve told him if they’d know how Harry and his ex’s relationship ended. 

“I was, because I wanted to be the person he told me to be. I was an asshole, like he said. I know that. Now, when I think about it, in a way I still am. But I don’t want to hurt people,” he sounds sincere. Louis comes back into his space, his arm around Harry’s shoulder, the other stroking his leg, which is circling around Louis. 

“I didn’t know what I was doing back then or what I wanted or who I was, and I want you to know that I’d never hurt you the way I hurt him, because it was a horrible time. I and him weren’t good together, in the end, we were together because we had gotten used to it. But it wasn’t healthy for either of us.” 

Louis doesn’t know what to say. He’s processing it all, trying to form real thoughts, real things to say, but everything in his head is yelling “AAARRRRGGHHHHH!” How can you put that into words, there’s no way. 

Now he knows Harry has cheated on someone and he knows that he has bullied people out from different dance groups. He also knows that Harry is gentle and determined and he’s holding Louis like Louis would be the world’s most valuable creature. 

 

“Please say something?” Harry asks, his voice breaking into a voiceless whisper. 

“I’m just thinking that you… I think you could never do that to me,” just as the words leave his mouth he knows it’s the most naïve thing to say. What if Harry does do that, what if he gets bored of them having _“just fun”_. What if he’s not enough for Harry? And now Harry thinks Louis is blind for every bad thing he does, if he does them. 

“Though, of course, I can’t know that, but I… There’s just a feeling that maybe you wouldn’t do it,” Louis clears his throat, knowing that this is a discussion they shouldn’t be having while they’re in bed, naked, when they could be doing much more thrilling things. Harry’s hands caress Louis’ lower back, melancholy written all over his face. 

“I don’t want to hurt you, never,” he whispers, not trusting his voice anymore. 

“I know,” Louis kisses his cheek, until Harry turns his head and the innocent pecks turn into desperate acceptance and craving. Harry pulls Louis closer, until there’s basically no space left. 

 

It’s also strangely non-sexual. They’re both naked and they’re both having semis, but the atmosphere is anything else but erotic. Louis just wants to hold Harry close, let him know that he can tell Louis anything if he wants. And he wants to know this man, but he also needs to remind himself that in the end they’ll probably just be friends, who had sex at some point. 

Harry pulls away to breathe, his eyes cast down. 

“I lied to you about something earlier,” he says through breaths. When? Was this all just a trick to get Louis into his bed, does he not like Louis like he said he does? 

 

“I mean when we first started practising,” he clears out, his hand brushing Louis’ hair off his face. 

“What do you mean?” 

“You asked me something like why I wanted to come here or something,” he’s holding Louis’ legs tightly against his sides, his arms resting on top of them. 

“Why did you come here then?” This is something else that has bothered Louis before. Is it another story of Harry breaking his heart or breaking someone else’s heart? Is it because he followed someone here? 

“I came here to distract myself?” Because he had cheated on someone else?

“My dad died that spring,” Harry clears his throat, his eyes open and his emotions pouring out with his voice. 

“What?” Louis blinks his eyes, feeling tears in them. 

“It was a hard time and I didn’t know what else to do, so I came here. I haven’t been able to go back to London since I came here, because I got busy with Deon and then I was busy because of my own things and then… I don’t even know what, it’s all just a huge lie. I can’t go home, because I can’t face it. Or haven’t been able to face it.” 

 

“Have you told anyone else about this?” Louis can’t be the only one, right? He can see the hurt in Harry’s eyes, the pain still fresh even though it has been years since it happened. 

Harry shakes his head as an answer, in surrender. Louis can only wrap his arms around him, hold him, feel his warmth that’s filled with sorrow. 

“I’m so sorry,” Louis whispers against his neck, kissing the spot that’s closest to him. 

“I’ve accepted it, it was going to happen anyway. That time was just a lot different,” Harry hugs Louis back, his whole body heavy against Louis. He’s kissing Louis’ neck, rocking them back and forth, creating friction. 

The moment is changing from gloomy to heated and in no time Louis is sitting on his lap, breathing against Harry’s neck, melting in Harry’s arms. 

 

Louis is using Harry’s shoulder as a pillow. He’s breathing heavy, his limbs like jelly. 

“I’ve never felt like this,” Harry says out of breath. 

“I think that’s impossible,” Louis chuckles, patting Harry’s chest with the back of his hand.

“I mean, I’ve had deep feelings for a person, but I haven’t shared things with people before.” 

“What?” Louis has to crane his neck to see Harry’s face. 

“I’ve never had feelings like this towards someone,” Harry looks peaceful, when there’s a war going on in Louis’ head. 

This has to be just about the sex, this has to be the sex talking. It has to be! Anyone could say anything when they’ve just had great sex. Even Louis himself could say that he’s in love with Harry, which is not true (even though it kind of is). 

But Harry’s face is saying other. He wasn’t just talking about the feeling you get after you have great sex. He wasn’t talking about the feeling of almost blacking out, when there’s spots dancing across your field of vision and feeling your legs shake like you could lose all control. No. 

 

“Neither have I,” Louis’ eyes drift back towards the lamp. There it is. His feelings. The truth. He doesn’t want to think about it, because it’s unfair and hopeless and torturous, but he’s still doing it. He has never had a boyfriend who he knew he was in love with, and now he’s here with a guy who he’s supposed to only have fun with and he’s thinking about being in love with Harry. 

He can hear Harry’s heart beating fast, not calming down even when they’re lying still. His arms around Louis tighten, keeping him safe from the world outside the window. Louis closes his eyes and tries to calm his own heart, but can’t. 

He knows he shouldn’t be here, stay here, do this at all. But he is. He knows that it’s all going to backfire sooner rather than later. He knows he shouldn’t feel this way, but here he is. And what he does know for sure is that he’s screwed. 

 

\- - 

 

“Niall, can I ask you something?” Louis had been standing behind his own door for far too long thinking about how he could ask for advice. 

He already lied to Niall about where he had been for Saturday and half of Sunday, when he was supposed to come home on Friday evening. He rambled on about meeting some old friends on Friday and ending up spending the weekend at one of their places. At least he thinks Niall didn’t suspect anything, but he can never know when it’s about Niall. 

Niall is watching Game of Thrones, once again, and Louis can only think about Harry. Even a show that he doesn’t enjoy watching and both him and Harry don’t like reminds him of Harry, and that concerns him. _A lot_. 

 

“Hmmm?” Niall glances towards Louis, but then he’s back to watching the TV, like he wouldn’t have seen the episode already. 

“So, let’s think, hypothetically…” Louis sits next Niall, his eyes instinctively turning towards the screen. 

“So, hypothetically, or let’s say you and Iris!” Louis laughs nervously, knowing that he needs to calm down or Niall will definitely know that something is going on. And it won’t take long for him to know who Louis is talking about. 

 

“Let’s say that you’re in a relationship and you love her,” Louis is twisting his fingers, trying to find a focus point so his thoughts wouldn’t just fly around in his head and bounce off of each other. 

Niall pauses the episode, an unpleasant scene in all its gory glory staring at Louis. Niall turns towards him, his brows furrowed. 

“I do love her,” he says, clearly seeing through Louis. He doesn’t want to think about that now, he just needs to ask for advice and if he stops now, he won’t get any support from anyone. 

 

“Okay, but let’s say you’ve just started going out with hi… her and you haven’t said anything about loving anyone and you know that you can’t fall for her, but you still do,” Louis is hitting himself inside his head for messing up, but he hopes Niall won’t cling to that. 

“Why couldn’t I love her?” Niall asks, raising his brows. 

“Because you know that you might be leaving, and you know that a long-distance relationship won’t work,” Louis’ voice shakes, but he keeps on powering through. His heart is beating wildly, and his hands are shaking. 

“So, I’d feel that I love her, but I know I can’t because I know I’d be leaving, correct?” 

“Yeah,” Louis nods, afraid to look Niall in the eyes. 

“And what then?” 

“Just that, what would you do? Would you keep on seeing her, or would you stop?” 

 

And as Niall is about to open his mouth, Iris walks out of the bathroom, wrapped in Niall’s bathrobe and a towel on her head. 

“Iris, we were just talking about you,” Niall exclaims, and smiles at his girlfriend. 

“Really? What were you talking about?” She sits next to Niall, comfortably settling against his side when Niall wraps his arm around her shoulders. 

 

“Louis?” Niall nods at him, prompting him to ask again. 

“Hypothetically, you and Niall would’ve just started dating and Niall would know that he loves you…” 

“Awww!” Iris smiles at Niall and she gets a kiss from him. Louis has to look away and of course, he sees the gory image on the TV screen. 

“Okay, so he’d know he’s falling for you, but he’d also know that he might be leaving, and he doesn’t believe in long-distance relationship.” 

“Though he does?” Iris narrows his eyes and now they’re looking at Louis with the same expression. 

“Hypothetically, I said,” Louis clarifies, over-enunciating his words. Iris nods at him, ready to hear more. 

“So, he knows he might be going somewhere but he also knows that he’s falling for you. The question is, what would Niall do; would he keep seeing you or would he call it quits?” Louis really just needs an answer, he needs to hear someone else’s opinion on this too. 

He has been thinking about this for too long and now it’s the only thing that fits in his brain. He knows he’s obsessing over this, but he doesn’t know what to do. That’s how he deals with things; he obsesses over them until he finds an answer. 

 

“If I were Niall, I’d probably talk with… Me?” Iris starts to laugh at the way she describes the situation.

“Yeah, I’d talk with Iris,” Niall squeezes Iris’ knee and smiles at the sound of her laughter. 

“So, you’d tell the other person about your plans and that you might be going away?” 

“Yes,” they say at the same time. 

“Okay, thanks,” Louis was dreading to hear them say it. Because it only means that he needs to tell Harry about London. 

He stands up, carefully so he won’t get lightheaded. How is he going to tell Harry? Should he just casually say it, like “Hey, remember when I applied to study in London? Yeah, I might still get in!” or “Harry, I might be going to London, so let’s just keep this light.” None of those options seems good. How can he tell something like that to a person, who he truly has deep feelings for? 

 

“So, what do you think, how will Harry take it?” Niall asks just when Louis starts to walk away. He almost stumbles on his own feet.

“Harry? Are you two together?” Iris sounds too excited and Louis has to cut the wings on this story right away. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Louis shrugs, daring to look at the couple, who are waiting to hear more. And who know, that Louis is lying. 

“You don’t have to hide it, Louis. You were away until like noon today and your story about meeting some old friends didn’t sound that convincing. Especially after seeing that purple hickey peeking under your neckline,” Niall nods his head at Louis, making Louis look down. 

There it is, a deep purple hickey, with bite marks and all, on his collarbone. Louis prefers seeing the gory image right now. This can’t be happening. He doesn’t want anyone to know. 

 

“Why won’t you tell us anything?” Iris asks, confused, and when Louis gives her a look, he can see the sadness on her face. It makes him crumble and sit back down. 

“There’s nothing to tell,” he sighs, even though there’s so much to tell. 

“Yet, here you are, sitting with us,” Niall remarks. 

“Okay, so we might have a thing going on, but that’s it.”

“And you think you’re in love with him?” Iris asks, and Louis feels like he’s playing a question game where he needs to give an answer as quickly as possible and the amount of questions is never ending. 

“I’m not,” Louis can hear the irritation in his own voice, and how it shakes. 

“Why are you so afraid of falling for the guy? He’s nice, isn’t he? Or has he done something to you?” 

“No, nothing like that. But if I’m going, it doesn’t make any sense,” Louis defends, knowing that he’s not making any sense himself. 

“But can you know that? Are you sure you’re going away?” 

“I don’t know!” 

“Then you have nothing to worry about!” Niall exclaims back, when Louis’ voice rises too. 

 

“So, do you really think I should talk with him?” Louis is so confused, he’s starting to lose it. 

“If you feel like he should know about it, then you should. But if you think the whole situation is still open, then why bother?” Iris talks slowly, like she’d try to come up with the words while she speaks. 

She does have a point, at least in Louis’ opinion. If Harry does have feelings for Louis, then why make him worry about something that won’t happen at all. 

 

The mere thought of Louis not getting into London makes him sad. He doesn’t know which makes him sadder, though; the fact that he could have Harry now but lose him tomorrow, or lose his chances at going to London. 

He has been thinking about it for so long and he has been planning and preparing himself for it for so long that if he’d throw it away for a guy, then what’s the point. Then he could throw away all his dreams and let Harry control his life. He doesn’t want that. And that basically decides it. 

“I’ll talk with him,” Louis says, staring at the nasty picture on the TV screen. 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah, I’m a realist and I want him to know that I have plans for my future. He already knows that I applied to study in London, and I’m not going to change that for him.” He’s almost proud of himself for making this decision. He will talk with Harry, he will be honest and he’ll do what he can to pursue his dreams. ‘

 

\- -

 

He walks into the studio, irritated, as he thinks he always does nowadays. Harry isn’t there yet, which is only a good thing. Especially now, when he just found out when his second audition for London will be. 

He walks straight to Niall, who looks carefree and stress-free and everything else-free, like his life would be perfect. Louis wouldn’t be surprised if Niall’s life would be perfect at the moment. Who could even blame him? He gets to be a dance group leader in Juilliard, he has a nice apartment (even though he has to share it and it’s not his own, but still), he has a great relationship, someone he loves and he can show it. He doesn’t have to walk around the city, wondering if he can feel like he does. He’s free, which makes Louis envious. 

 

“Niall?” Louis drops his bag on the floor, earning a smile from Niall. 

“How’s your morning on this fine day, Louis?” Even his voice is dripping with happiness. Louis has never really noticed or even cared how Niall acts or how he shows his contentment. Now, when he has a chance to be happy too, he can’t stand to see Niall’s face and how he’s just a walking commercial of satisfaction. 

It’s been two weeks since Louis spent his first night at Harry’s. It has also been two weeks since Louis made the decision to tell Harry about London, but he has started to doubt himself. Even though he thinks he did the right choice, it’s driving him a little mad. That’s why he still hasn’t said a word to Harry. He’s just waiting for the right moment to bring it up, Louis says to himself. But in reality, he’s not telling Harry, because he’s not sure if it’s the right thing to do in this situation. 

He can only think about Harry, London and his and Harry’s duo performance and at this point, only those three things crowd his mind every waking moment (and sometimes in his sleep too). When he’s with Harry, he knows everything kind of blurs around them. And then there’s Harry, loud and clear, and then there’s Louis’ own reflection in the mirror from two weeks ago. 

That’s always the moment when the stress over the London audition likes to remind Louis that it still exists. When he’s not with Harry, he’s either thinking about Harry or London. When they’re in the studio, Louis can only think about their duo and his London audition, Harry always comes last in this space. 

 

But not today. Now his mind is screaming that Harry exists, his own happiness exists, and he’s ready to throw it away. 

“I got an email from the application board,” Louis keeps his voice low, so it will blend out when the others are talking to each other. 

“And?” Niall’s focus shifts straight to Louis, who can only think about the feeling he has over the whole audition. Like he’d be cheating on Harry with the audition. He has never felt so silly and paranoid before, sneaking behind someone’s back, hiding his decision from someone who he actually cares about. 

He does care about Harry, he just doesn’t want to admit it. Also, he doesn’t want to admit that he cares about Harry too much. He’s just protecting Harry, he doesn’t have to know about this until something actually happens. If something happens. 

 

“I’ll have the audition in three weeks, on Friday. And it’ll be while we’re practising the program.” Louis bites his teeth together and presses so hard that it starts to hurt. 

“Okay, then you’ll be away,” Niall gives him a reassuring nod. 

“It’s fine, it’s just one time. After that, you can concentrate on the program again.” 

“Yeah,” Louis doesn’t even believe how simple it is. He goes to the audition, and that’s it. And here he is thinking it through over and over again. He’s thinking about the possibilities and the outcomes and the chances. And every point has something that makes him extremely excited, but also disappointed. This is just the audition, not the moment when he’s going to find out if he got in or not. 

He’s going to do his best, no matter what. He’s going to practice, he’s going to give his all so that he’ll get what he wants and then it’s in the hands of the people who decide about his future. But there’s just a small question in his mind; what does he want? Does he want to go back home or does he want to be brave and stay for someone who he knows he’s going to be happy with. 

 

Harry walks in with Nico, his eyes finding Louis right away. He smiles a smile only meant for Louis, before he turns his eyes away and pretends like he’s not smiling because of Louis, but because Nico told him something funny.

Louis’ heart swells in his chest, generating heat all over. He doesn’t want to say it, but he feels it. He lets it fill his bones and muscles, sparkle out through his skin. That’s also the moment he decides it. What he wants. He wants a future for himself. He wants the thing that he has wanted for a while already. He’s not going to stay here for someone else, if he gets the chance to leave. This is his future and he’s not going to change that for some guy. 

What if it doesn’t work out? What if it crumbles in his hands? What if Harry cheats on him with someone else, someone better, someone new, someone who can give Harry a new thrill? What if Harry grows bored of Louis? What if they get through the summer and then start to miss someone else, miss a different life? 

Louis isn’t going to take that chance. He’s not going to get hurt by a guy, who he knows will hurt him at some point. He’s not going to let that happen when he can still get out of it. 

But now, he can have a bit of fun. Just fun, no strings attached. There’s always guys that can make him happy, but dancing stays. That’s his life. That’s his decision. And he’s going to stick to it. 

 

Louis is already setting the studio up for him and Harry, placing their props where they’ve planned to have them on the stage. Their song is playing silently in the background, Louis going through their choreo step-by-step in his mind. 

His mind is racing, trying to remember all of the steps, but their duo choreo is mixing with his London audition choreo. The more he thinks about it, the more confusing it becomes. 

 

“Sorry it took me so long,” Harry whispers in his ear, before he wraps his arms around Louis’ waist. Louis jumps, his heart beating too fast. For a moment he’s confused who is holding him, who is now chuckling in his ear. 

“You need to let go, what if someone sees!” Louis wriggles out of Harry’s hold, not facing him. 

“Who could see us?” He hears Harry’s voice, almost mocking Louis and his fear of being caught. 

“I don’t know! Someone who we don’t want to know about us,” Louis glances at Harry, who is standing far away, looking like he’s in the wrong studio with the wrong person. 

“Okay.” Louis is just happy that Harry’s voice is even, and he seems to let it go.

“Should we begin then?” Harry asks, still far away. The temperature in the room seems to have dropped and makes Louis think it’s because of him. But it can’t be. They have rules and one is to not show any affection in rehearsals. If Harry can’t understand that, then it’s not Louis’ problem. 

“Yeah,” Louis puts the music louder, waiting for it to repeat from the beginning. 

 

He doesn’t know why, but he doesn’t want to get closer to Harry. He doesn’t want to face him, touch him, dance with him. He’s too distracted to be doing this right now. He’s too agitated to focus on the duo with Harry, when all he can think about if he’s doing the right thing. 

Of course, he’s doing the right thing! He just doesn’t want to hurt Harry and he’s afraid he’s going to do that. But he also doesn’t want to get hurt himself, so who is the winner here? He’s going to get hurt either way, if he gets in or if he doesn’t. 

Louis walks slowly towards Harry, trying to find something that would calm him down. What he does see is Harry standing still, not moving at all. Like he’d be a statue, trying to read Louis’ mood. 

 

“Are we okay?” He asks, his voice almost drowning under the music. Louis nods, breathes out a long breath and finds that something. He needs to trust Harry on this one, at least on this one. Harry is an amazing dancer and Louis knows that he’s pushing himself to do his best with Harry. Harry is like his personal motivator without Harry knowing it. 

“We’re okay,” Louis takes the last step, his hands on Harry’s forearms when Harry holds his waist. Or barely holds his waist, almost as if he’s afraid to touch Louis, afraid he’s going to blow up in Harry’s hands, pull away once again and this time never come back.

Louis breathes in through his nose, out through his mouth. They listen to the song and Louis focuses on Harry’s chest, seeing it rise and fall when he breathes. The last words are sung and they take their place.

 

They begin their dance, their _courting ritual_ , that vibrates in Louis’ bones. The dance is in him, like is his other choreography. He’s dancing, and realising that he’s dancing the other choreo at the same time. 

He shakes all London thoughts out of his mind, but it feels like he’s just sucking them in more. His steps are shaky, when he tries to correct himself, and his dance makes Harry lose his balance too. They’re like two twigs far away from each other, swaying in the same wind. They’re dancing, but they’re not dancing to the same song.

“Let’s begin again,” Harry stops Louis mid-song and runs to start the track again. They begin again. And again, and again. Louis starts to beat himself up in his head, which only makes his focus flail more, his thoughts drifting to his audition over and over. Harry looks tense and Louis would want to slap it away, slap it away from himself and shake it out of Harry so they could just get through this dance.

 

“Let’s take a break,” Harry sighs, when Louis stops dancing altogether, when he was supposed to face Harry and not turn away from him. 

“What’s going on?” Harry shuts the music off completely, the room falling quiet. There’s just the high sigh of breathing, hearts beating and feet taking steps against the lacquered wood floor.

“Nothing, nothing’s going on, I’m just stressed,” Louis combs his hands through his hair, and closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to see Harry in front of him.

“Stressed about what? This duo?” This would be it, the perfect moment for Louis to tell Harry what is really stressing him out. That it’s not just this duo, that it’s not only this one program and one school. 

But that he’s stressed because of the audition, because of his other choreo because he wants it to be perfect, but he doesn’t know if it is. And he’s stressed because Harry is like the perfect imperfection in his life right now and it’s infuriating. And it’s making him unsure of himself, unsure of his own feelings towards everything. 

That he’s stressed because he has made a decision that’s now crumbling just because he’s letting Harry in. And he doesn’t want that, he doesn’t want to let Harry in anymore if it affects his performance on a stage. He can’t let it happen, when he needs to be focused and centred. 

“Yeah, because of this duo,” Louis only says, because he can’t get his mouth to say the things that his mind is thinking.

 

”What is stressing you about it? You’ve been the one keeping us focused and on the right track with this one, what has changed?” Harry’s hands come to rest against Louis’ waist when his arms cradle Louis lightly.

He’s looking at Louis with serious eyes, trying to read him. But Louis has mastered the art of not letting Harry in too much. He’s only giving Harry what he wants Harry to see or know or hear. He mastered the skill already when he was a child, but his mum saw right through him, every time. She always called him out on it, letting him know that his tricks didn’t work on her.

 

When it comes to Harry, he doesn’t know Louis that well yet. He can’t tell when Louis isn’t telling him something or if he’s being completely honest or if it’s just something to hide the reality. Louis is giving him the things that Louis believes will make Harry happy in this... situation.

 

Louis’ hands are flat against Harry’s chest, and it’s easier for him to look at his own hands, than into Harry’s eyes. He wants to know the truth, the real things that are making Louis stressed. For him, it’s something about their duo. 

He wants to make it work as much as Louis wants to make it work. Because he does, he wants to be proud of their work. But at this moment he can’t enjoy this practice. He can’t enjoy the way the music sounds to him, moves him, makes his heart thrum inside his ribs. And he can’t enjoy Harry’s touch, when every touch reminds him of the things that he’s not telling Harry.

 

Harry has been so open about, well everything, so far. He’s telling Louis things about his childhood and of the time when he came to New York. Every time he looks like he has won himself, done something that he hasn’t been able to do in so long. Maybe he hasn’t. 

It always makes Louis wonder if his ex knew about these things. Did he know that Harry’s dad died and that was the reason why Harry came here? Does he know what kind of a person Harry was after they broke up? Does he know what Harry is really like? Even Louis doesn’t know that for sure. But he knows that Harry has told him more personal things than anyone has ever told Louis, while he was still in London or while he has been in New York. 

And Louis isn’t telling him anything. He’s not giving Harry stories about his childhood or about the things he has had to sacrifice to be here now. He isn’t telling Harry about his future plans. And part of that is because he hasn’t had to worry about someone else before. 

He’s so used to living on his own, doing things on his own, being on his own, that including someone in his life seems too foreign. Like he’d try to include an alien in his life, knowing that he will leave for another planet soon. 

He will move, he will change, and soon no one will know the Louis who lived in New York. Because that Louis will be gone, it was part of the past. And then he won’t talk about that part of his life, just because he hasn’t told people about his life before this either. Nothing will change for him, even though everything changes.

 

Part of the reason why he’s not telling Harry anything, is because he doesn’t believe Harry will actually care. He might like Louis on some level, maybe he just likes the company, but why would he care if Louis leaves or not? 

He could say all these weirdly nice things like “I’ve never felt like this before”, so he can have more sex with Louis. Who knows at this point! There won’t be a single soul in New York who will miss Louis when he leaves, that’s a fact. He might have people he hangs out with, but even they don’t know anything about Louis’ plans. 

Actually, Niall and Harry are the only ones he has talked about London with. Niall knows a bit more, Harry has heard about it only once. And maybe he’s not completely right, maybe Niall will miss him at least a bit. But Niall’s life will move forward, he will keep living it and he will do the things he does best. Louis is then just a person who he once lived with and who was in the group he led.

 

The biggest reason why he’s not talking to Harry is because he doesn’t trust Harry. He can’t trust Harry because he seems too nice, too perfect, too everything. He wasn’t like this before; earlier he didn’t even remember Louis’ name! 

Now they might be sleeping together but it doesn’t mean anything deep. Maybe he’s having Louis’ type of friends all over the city, for him to have fun with. Maybe Louis is the one, who he has told stories about his past, but it doesn’t mean they’re somehow exclusive. They’re just hanging out. It doesn’t involve trust on any deeper level, they just are and that’s it.

 

“Maybe I’m just nervous about the whole performance. I have a lot to remember and then there’s the stress of having an audience and remembering where to be at the right time.” Louis can’t look him in the eyes. So, he talks to his hands, seeing them rise and fall with Harry’s chest.

 

“It hasn’t bothered you before, you’re great in front of people.”

 

“I know, this is just different.” _Because it’ll be my last performance here. Then he’ll say goodbye to Juilliard, at least he hopes so._

 

If he doesn’t get into London, he’ll be even more crushed because he has put so much pressure into the audition. He’s putting all his thoughts into leaving at the end of spring, that this will be his last semester in Juilliard, but what if it won’t be? What if he doesn’t get into London, and he needs to stay here?

 

“How is it different?” Harry asks, even more worried. His voice is heavy, like someone has told him really bad news.

 

“I don’t know, Harry! I don’t have all the answers! I’m just stressed!” Louis pulls himself away, easily stepping further away from Harry. He squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath. In a way, it feels like he’s having a small breakdown, his thoughts a mess and everyone expecting so much from him.

 

“Okay, it’s okay,” Harry talks calmly.

 

“Let’s do something to get your mind off this,” Harry says, something clicking in his voice.

 

“I’m not going to have sex with you in here,” Louis warns him, his irritation getting stronger.

 

“Who said anything about sex?” Harry only asks, before the lights go out. Louis looks around himself, the studio surprisingly dark. There’s light coming in through the narrow window next to the door and some streaming in from the sides of the light blocking blinds.

 

Harry walks to him, taking Louis’ hand into his.

 

“Lay on the floor,” he orders.

 

“What?”

 

“Just lay down and trust me,” Harry tells him. Louis hesitates for a moment, before he sits down and lays on the floor.

 

“Now close your eyes,” Harry’s voice has dropped in volume, like he’d be far away. Louis closes his eyes, delighted that the only thing he can see is black.

 

Harry puts something on him, something a little heavy, but nothing that will make Louis feel like he’s being suffocated.

 

Louis can hear him lay down next to him, breathing in deep a few times.

 

“I read somewhere once that hugging can calm people down if you’re stressed or feeling anxiety or panic. The same is with light pressure. It helps your stress levels to lower.”

 

While Harry talks Louis is already thinking he’s in his own bed. Though his bed isn’t this hard, he still imagines he’s at home, under a heavy blanket that he uses every winter when it gets colder. 

This time in his imagination, Harry is with him. Harry’s arms around his shoulders, when Louis is lying half on top of him, listening to Harry fill his lungs with air and breathing it out, Harry’s heart beating with life. He imagines it, because it has become a thing they do every time they sleep together. 

They’re silent or whispering things to each other, sneaking around, which is thrilling and exiting, but also relaxing. There’s the fear of getting caught, but being held by someone is beating the fear and giving Louis reassurance of being important to at least someone. When Harry’s body leaves Louis’, the old thoughts of being alone, being lonely, return and once again he’s battling with his thoughts.

 

“Let’s lay here for a while, and then we’ll try again,” Harry tells him, sighing the words out. He sounds tired, like he needs this as much as Louis does. Louis doesn’t know what he’s thinking or what’s making him stressed, if he is, but suddenly it’s almost like he wouldn’t even exist. Louis knows there’s someone next to him, but it’s not Harry anymore. It’s just a shape of a human, faceless and colourless. Just a shell of a person.

 

Louis keeps his eyes closed, his mind drifting to all the sneaking around with Harry. Running into either one’s bedroom, pretending there’s no world outside the four walls. Just them, together, hot and heavy, not apart at any moment. Like they’d need each other’s skin to stay here, in this world. In their world. 

Louis was at Harry’s the day before yesterday, just a quick visit before Liam got home. The time stopped and went too fast in their own little bubble and Louis is feeling like that now too. This moment is stopping time, but the outside world is moving too fast.

 

He can see the others dancing in their usual studio, Niall giving them orders and music playing ruthlessly. But here he is, with Harry, lying still and only breathing. It’s giving him hope of everything turning out good, that whatever happens, everything will be good in the end. 

And then there’s the fear of something going wrong, that is trying to remind Louis to not get too comfortable. He knows that, he can’t get too comfortable. Nothing is comfortable in this situation where everything seems to control him, not the other way around. He feels like his decisions are living a life of their own, always coming back with a crash and not letting Louis be for a moment. He can’t just be and breathe.

 

Here, with Harry, it’s different. Hearing Harry breathe, sensing Harry next to him, is like the calm he has wanted to feel for a while. He doesn’t know why it happens every time, why he feels like this when he’s with Harry. It’s like he has become co-dependent on Harry’s company. That only Harry can calm his tumultuous mind. He hates it and likes it at the same time. 

He hates that he can’t feel this way when he’s on his own. He hates that he can’t just live his own life, without feeling like he needs Harry for something. Why can’t he just have fun with Harry, why does he need to spend time with Harry, so he can forget everything else for just a moment. 

It’s like a light switch. When he’s alone, he’s anxious, not able to sit still. Then Harry comes along, and his mind is wiped clean and he sees everything so clearly. It’s like someone cleans his mind, polishes his thoughts and they’re in order, in their right place in their own little lockers. 

He can close his eyes without having the fear that he’s going to get crushed if he doesn’t keep one eye open at all times. He can breathe without being afraid he’s going to breathe in poison, that will make him forget everything and not know who he is anymore. And he can hear again, without hearing the constant battle that his mind is having with him, asking him questions he has given an answer to a million times. He can rest and he can be. 

Then Harry leaves. When Louis closes his eyes and opens them again, it all comes back. It creeps in slowly, first whispering, then saying something straight into his ear. Finally, it’s screaming all the time, his thoughts keeping him awake and asking him things he doesn’t want to think about.

 

He doesn’t know how long it’s been. He knows Harry is awake by his breathing, by the way he’s rolling his ankles and they crack. The silence is killing him, when it’s giving him comfort. He knows this would be the perfect moment for him to talk. This’d be the moment, when he should open his mouth, and tell Harry. 

Even the thought of opening up to him makes Louis’ hands sweat and his heart beat erratically. He doesn’t want to admit that Harry is the person he wants to talk to. He doesn’t want to admit that Harry is the person, who he wants to include in his future. Because he’s afraid. He’s so afraid of what will happen if he does let it happen. If he lets Harry come too close. This is the perfect moment. 

 

“Harry?” Louis begins, his voice thick in his throat, but he’s pushing them out. Just a few simple words. _I got into the second stage of the London audition. I want to leave New York._ It’s a few simple words with such a heavy meaning. 

He opens his eyes and he looks at Harry, who is already looking at him with open eyes. He’s waiting, he’s expecting something. Louis doesn’t know what he’s expecting. What he wants to hear. But he looks like if Louis will say what he’s planning, it will break everything. It will turn Harry into dust, make him lose that glint from his eyes and turn into a person Louis doesn’t want to see. He doesn’t want to see Harry broken, he doesn’t want to see Harry hurt. He only wants to see this; this person who even in the dark shines like a bright star. 

“I think I’m ready to try again,” Louis says slowly, the words like cement falling out of his mouth. The words that he didn’t plan, didn’t want to say, come out and let Harry shine. 

“You sure?” Harry asks, his fingers touching Louis’ hand lightly.

“Yeah, let’s dance.” 

 

Harry helps him up and they put the lights back on. The music starts to play. The room is filled with tension, that feels different to both of them. Louis is battling with his future, when to Harry it might seem like he’s just focused. 

But Louis’ mind is jumbled, all over the place, screaming and whispering at the same time. Should he say it? Should he not? Is it right to leave Harry out of it? Is it right for him to do this? Does Harry even want to know? 

He dances, and he drowns his feelings into the movement of his body. He loses himself, lets the music take over. He doesn’t listen to himself, he only listens to his body stretching to its breaking point. But it doesn’t break. It keeps on going, lets Louis dance like he wants. He feels Harry’s hands on his body, dancing and holding, leading him with the music. 

Maybe he should tell Harry. Maybe he should let Harry know what is happening. Maybe it’ll all be good. Maybe he needs to define this thing they’re having. Maybe? 

The song ends. They get it together. They dance the routine through a few more times, without the music and with. They do it with a slower tempo, to see if they’re doing the things they’re supposed to. Louis keeps listening to Harry speak, breathe. He lets Harry lead him through this, make him surer that maybe he should tell Harry. 

 

“Want to come over this evening? Liam is going on a date, so I’d have the place for myself for a few hours,” Harry smiles at Louis, when they’re gathering their things into their bags and drinking water from the same water bottle. 

“Yeah, okay, what time?” Louis can see that his answer gets Harry excited. His smile turns from hopeful to mischievous and his movements become slower, making Louis stare at his arms and shoulders. He knows what he’s doing, he knows how to get someone turned on. 

“Seven?” 

“Seven’s good,” Louis nods, a spark of excitement in his bones. Maybe he should tell Harry this evening. Okay, he will. He’s going to tell Harry and they can talk and they will figure it out. Louis will get rid of his nerves and anxiousness, and they will plan it out together. He’s going to make clear what he wants, but he’ll also hear Harry out. Easy. 

 

“You coming?” Harry asks, when he stands up and starts to walk backwards towards the door. 

“I’m just going to stretch for a bit, I’ll see you later,” Louis waves him off, giving him a smile through the mirror. 

“See you later then?” 

“See you.” Harry is out the door.

 

Silence falls over Louis, telling him things. He doesn’t want it to start again, not this soon. He can’t stand it now. He starts to think if he could still catch Harry, if he could sneak up to him and hug him. Kiss him. Before they’re apart for a few hours. Before they meet later this evening. Before Louis can hold him and see clearly again. 

Louis stumbles up and almost runs to the door of the studio. He walks in the hallway with bare feet, the floor cold. He just wants to see Harry and go to him, get a fix so he’d be calm a bit longer. 

 

He does see Harry. But when Louis sees him, Louis needs to stop. He needs to hide behind a corner, he needs to protect himself. Hide himself. Harry isn’t alone, because he’s hugging someone. Louis can’t recognise the person, because his face is hidden behind Harry’s head. They’re hugging tight, Harry sways a little from side to side. Louis can’t stop watching the two, Harry and the other, even though he’s hurting. 

Harry wouldn’t care. He wouldn’t notice. Louis is just someone he’s sleeping with. Nothing more, nothing else. Harry presses his face against the other person's neck, and Louis needs to turn away. 

He feels like someone has stolen his lungs. Someone came and ripped them out through his mouth, leaving him heaving, like he’d throw up. But he doesn’t. He knew this would happen. He knew it’s only a dream that’s not going to be real. 

 

He doesn’t look back, when he goes back into the studio. He’s holding his breath, even though his lungs start to work again. He doesn’t let the shaking of his hands bother him, when he picks up his phone from his bag and texts Harry that he can’t come over tonight. He doesn’t let the jealousy lift its head inside him, when he puts music back on, his audition song for London booming through the speakers. He doesn’t let his insides break, when he decides that he needs to keep it casual with Harry. Just fun, like he decided in the first place. 

Now he doesn’t have to worry about telling Harry anything, he decided it for Louis. He’s not going to tell Harry anything, maybe he’s not telling Harry even if he’d get into London. Just casual, just for fun. No feelings, even though his heart is pulling to the other direction. He knew he’d get hurt sooner or later. it was sooner than he thought, but it happened. He didn’t expect anything less. 

He dances and makes sure he perfects the routine. He dances, so he can forget Harry. He dances, so he’ll get to leave the fuck out of New York and move back home, where he belongs. 

 

\- - 

 

Louis is staring at the door of the studio, watching people get in. It’s the day. _The Day._ The day of the audition. The only person who knows what Louis is doing today is Niall. He hasn’t told Harry anything, he’s just having fun. No feelings, no bonding, no nothing. Just fun and making Harry leave his bed or making himself leave Harry’s bed. 

He’s staring at the door, waiting for Harry to get in. They were supposed to practice their duo in front of the rest of the group, but Louis didn’t know how to tell Harry that this is a bad day. Niall knew all along, playing along with Louis, playing along with their “plan”. Louis could never leave Niall hanging, after all, Niall is his friend. 

But Harry is different. Louis had to figure out how to tell Harry that he won’t be here today. He has been trying to figure out a way to say it, so Harry won’t ask him any other questions. Finally, last night he came up with an excuse. 

He’ll tell Harry that he needs to take care of a family thing, and that it’s personal. In a way, he’s not even lying. His audition is a family thing, kind of, and it’s personal. If Harry asks something, he’ll tell Harry that he’ll say more when he knows more. Easy as that! At least when he tried it on Niall, it sounded very convincing and professional. 

 

If Harry would just show up. Louis glances at Niall, raising his brows. Niall checks his phone, just as a new bunch of people come in. Niall shakes his head, letting Louis stare at the people. No Harry. He reads the message he wrote to Harry, ready to be sent. 

“ _I have a family thing today, I need to take care of it today. I won’t make it to practice, sorry._ ”

 

If he doesn’t see Harry here, he’ll send the message. And it looks like Harry won’t be here on time, which means that he needs to leave. Now. He presses send and watches the message leave his phone into some void, where it’ll find its way into Harry’s phone. 

Louis picks up his bag and nods at Niall. He leaves just as the door opens. 

“Hi!” Nico smiles at Louis, way too cheery at this time of the day. Louis answers, but the word somehow blends into the noise of the studio and he’s not sure if Nico heard him. 

He walks out, his nerves truly kicking in. He’s going to his second audition, this is it. This decides if he’s going to London or not. There’s no if’s or but’s to this moment. He just needs to dance, he needs to trust his choreo, he needs to trust his skills. 

 

“Louis!” He hears Niall’s voice calling after him. He turns, and Niall is running after him. 

“Good luck,” Niall smiles and gives him a quick hug. 

“Thanks,” Louis breathes out, shakiness settling into his muscles. 

“How are you feeling about it?” 

“Nervous, but at the same time I want it to be over. I’ve been thinking about this for so long that it’s finally time for me to show them what I can do and what kind of a dancer I am.” Louis grabs the shoulder strap of his bag tighter, digging the material into his palm. 

 

“What about Harry, will you tell him?” Niall asks, his voice a bit lower. There’s no one else in the hallway, and his voice almost echoes between the walls. 

“I’ll tell if I get in,” Louis simply says, happy with his decision. What else is there to even think about? He has accepted his position as one of Harry’s lovers or something and it’s nothing more. If he gets in, it’ll only be the end of them sleeping together. That’s it. 

 

“Can you imagine! You could get into the Royal Academy of Dance!” Niall pipes, and he look like he could start jumping. 

“If you do get in, you need to be fucking proud of yourself! You hear me! You can go to London and dance where you want!” Niall exclaims, his hands gripping Louis’ arms. His enthusiasm makes Louis smile, because he’s right. 

“I could go back home!” Louis doesn’t want to raise his voice too much, but he silently pipes in. Like he’d be telling a huge secret to the world. 

“You dance, and you show them!” Niall ruffles Louis’ hair with a wide smile. Louis lets out a breath, getting rid of some of the nerves. He smiles back and Niall pats his arms, like a metaphorical kick in the butt. 

 

He turns to leave, but can’t go. Harry stands only a couple of meters away, his phone in his hand. He doesn’t say anything, he only watches on as Niall is wishing Louis good luck. Maybe he didn’t hear it? Maybe he just got here and is just confused? 

They all just stare at each other, not moving, maybe not even breathing. Louis sucks in all the nerves he breathed out earlier, like this would be his punishment. Why does it even feel like this, like he just made a huge mistake by not telling Harry about any of this? 

Harry is the first to move. He pockets his phone, and then his eyes are back on Louis. He has an emotionless smile on his smile, fading, fading, gone, before he looks away. 

“Good luck with the, uhhh, family thing,” he says, his voice strangled. His gaze drifts towards the floor. Louis stares at him, wishing he’d say something else. Wishing Harry would just make him tell what is really going on. But he doesn’t. 

Harry just lifts chin back up, a hard look in his eyes. He steps forward, gets encouraged by the movement and swiftly walks past Niall and Louis. They follow Harry when he goes into the studio, leaving the two in the hallway. 

 

“Maybe he didn’t hear anything,” Niall shakes his head, and they both know that it’s not true. 

“Maybe…” Louis feels bad, almost excruciatingly bad. 

“Just go, you don’t want to be late,” Niall steps back, somehow floating away from Louis towards the studio. Louis nods and turns away, new kind of nervousness filling his body. It’s not positive at all, it’s rather making him doubt himself. And only because Harry now knows. Or most likely knows.

He tries to forget it, the moment in the hallway, on his way to the audition. But he’s walking in a daze, and he can only see Harry’s hurt reflecting into his own feelings. 

 

He sees all the other dancers and knows that this is not the place to think about a person, who he’s sleeping with. This is a place, where he needs to be. This day will determine if he stays or if he leaves. And he can’t be thinking about Harry, because he won’t let that control his life. He won’t let Harry control his future. 

He warms up with the others and puts on a mask, hiding everything behind it. He can think about Harry later, but not now. Now he needs to succeed. 

 

\- - 

 

” **Come over tomorrow evening, at around 8. Liam is going away for the weekend, I have the flat for myself. And I have a surprise for you ;)** ”

“ _Okay, I’ll be there_ ”

 

\- -

 

Harry has been making this dinner the whole day. He checked different recipes, went to the shops with a too long grocery list, and carried home three full bags of food. He has never made food for anyone else other than himself and Liam, and that’s different on so many levels. 

If he makes food, it’s something he can just easily put together, not something that takes hours to marinade. He doesn’t usually follow a recipe that tells him how the meal needs to be prepared and of course, there usually is only one way to prepare a more challenging dinner. And, according to the recipes he found, only slow-cooked food is apparently the best way to make something and it makes the meal more flavourful. He doesn’t really even like cooking, but he wants to put some effort into the food he’s making for Louis. He wants to give Louis something special. 

 

He has been planning this for the past week. After he heard Niall and Louis talking about Louis’ London audition, he didn’t know how to react. He still doesn’t know how to react. Especially after Louis had lied to him about it. Like it would’ve been a family issue, yeah right. After, Harry thought Louis might want to talk about it. Explain himself a bit. But he didn’t say anything. Still hasn’t and Harry hasn’t asked about it. 

It has been three weeks. 

Nothing has been said about it. Maybe he could’ve brought it up, but every time he thinks about it, he can’t open his mouth. It’s like a barrier between them; they both know that it has to be talked about, but they don’t know how to bring it up. Or at least that’s how it feels like for Harry. He can’t talk for Louis, though. But something has changed. 

Louis has been… odd, to say the least. He’s like he has always been, but it’s clear that he’s keeping things from Harry. And it has started to bother Harry more and more. They’ve been seeing each other, they’ve been going out on dates and it’s like it has been before too. But there’s just this weird tension between them. 

 

There’s also something else. Since he heard Louis and Niall talk, Harry realised that he doesn’t want to let Louis go. He doesn’t want this to end. He wants to be able to call Louis his boyfriend. He already thinks Louis is his boyfriend. 

They act like boyfriends, they spend a lot of time together, and he has never been this happy with anyone. When he looks at Louis, he thinks he can see that Louis has never been this happy either. They bring out the best in each other and they’re, just, happier. Even thinking about Louis, Harry’s heart hammers. 

Sneaking around with him has been fun, but now he wants to make it official. He doesn’t want to hide his happiness for the rest of his life, why should he? Who cares if they’re dancing a duo and they’re in the same group. It’s not forbidden to be in a relationship. He wants to tell people that he’s happy, that he has someone special in his life and that he’s in this for the long run. How ridiculous that even sounds! He’s serious with Louis. He’s in love with him, for fucks sake! 

Harry chuckles when he even thinks about it. This is the perfect moment for this to happen. Though it might’ve been the worst time to tell Liam about what’s going on. 

Liam had seen that something was going on since the beginning, a couple of months back. He knew that someone had been here while he had been somewhere else, but Harry had been keeping his word and hadn’t told him anything, just like Louis wanted. But now it’s different. He doesn’t want to keep it to himself anymore and Liam just was there. 

 

“I’m going to spend some time with my dad this weekend, to make sure that he’s okay,” Liam said on Tuesday, looking stressed and tired. 

“How are they, your parents, after everything?” A few weeks back Liam told Harry that his parents were getting a divorce. He has a 10-year-old little sister, so it’s the hardest for her. Liam has been worried about her this whole time, since she has to be at home and listen to their parents arguing. Liam didn’t tell him why his parents are getting a divorce, but he did hint that they won’t be able to fix their marriage. 

 

“Avoiding each other. Dad is moving out this weekend, so I’ll help him with that.” 

“Okay, well, I hope he’s okay and I’m sure it’ll cheer him up when you spend a bit of time with him.”

 

They were quiet after that, but Harry just couldn’t hold it in anymore. 

“Is it okay with you if I invite someone over during this weekend?” Harry’s foot was tapping the floor, when he was sitting at their dining table. Liam looked at him with narrow eyes, and a knowing smile spreads across his face. 

“You can have friends over and you don’t need to ask my permission. But I feel like there’s a reason why you’re telling me?” Liam’s silly face made Harry feel all giddy inside. Here goes all or nothing. 

 

“You remember Louis?” 

“Louis! The guy whose name you didn’t remember at one point and who you’ve had a thing for since forever?” Liam covers his mouth with his hand, his eyes wide open out of shock. 

“Yeah, well, we’ve been seeing each other for the past couple of months or something,” Harry feels so proud that he can tell Liam about Louis. He can say that he has a boyfriend. What a feeling! 

“He’s the one you’ve been sleeping with!?” Liam looks scandalised, his reaction making Harry laugh. He only nods, because he’s not giving Liam any details. Liam now knows everything there is for him to know. 

 

“Woooow,” Liam sighs. 

“You’re serious with him?” 

“Yeah, or I’m going to talk with him this weekend, but yeah, I’m serious.” Liam just shook his head, incredulous of what Harry was telling him. 

“This is the best thing I’ve heard in a while,” Liam smiled, and he looked like Harry just saved his whole week. 

 

There’s a knock at the door. Harry is lighting candles all over the dining room and living room area, making sure that it looks nice and romantic. He checks that the table looks good, everything set. The food is still in the kitchen, in the oven, to keep it warm. He checks himself in the mirror, combing his hand through his hair one last time. He breathes out and opens the door. 

Louis smiles, a tense smile, and he steps in. 

“Hi,” Harry greets, his arms around Louis’ waist. He kisses Louis’ lips, hungry for more, but Louis turns his face away. Okay? Harry lets it slide; he could be just too hungry to think about anything else right now. 

“Hi,” Louis speaks quietly, and for the first time, Harry gives him a good look. His smile is not the only thing that’s tense. 

His shoulders are like rock, his arms like robot arms only able to move forwards and backwards. He doesn’t look Harry in the eye, just bends down to take off his shoes and then hangs his jacket on a hanger. 

 

“Why is it so dark in here?” He asks, when Harry leads him into the apartment. He can’t stop smiling, when he sees what Louis will see first. The whole room is lit up with candles, warm, loving light closing the two into a gentle hug. Harry turns towards Louis to see his reaction. 

It’s not something he expected, to be honest. Louis looks surprised, yes, but not in a good way. 

He swallows hard and bites his lips together. He’s staring at the whole room, his eyes gliding from one wall to the other. He sees the dining table with the wine glasses and plates and more candles. Slowly he turns to Harry, still no signs of happiness in him. 

 

“What do you think?” Harry asks him, not sure what to do now. Is this really that bad? 

“It’s… There’s a lot of candles,” Louis only points out, and then he doesn’t say anything else. Doesn’t even think about saying anything else, Harry thinks, when he sees how tightly Louis closes his mouth. 

 

“I’ve made us dinner, so sit down,” Harry guides Louis towards the dining table and Louis does as he’s told. He sits down and Harry rushes into the kitchen with their plates to get the food. He tries to swallow, but his mouth is too dry. It doesn’t seem like it’s going that well. Louis doesn’t seem happy and it bothers him, why isn’t Louis like his normal self?

He’s squeezing the cool wine bottle under his arm, their plates in his hands. Louis is looking at everything else other than Harry, when he pours them the drinks and sits down next to Louis. 

 

“What’s going on, Harry?” Louis doesn’t sound impressed, more pissed off than anything else. 

“I want to talk to you about something,” Harry begins, and he feels his nerves building up. He’s like one huge nerve ending, electrified and excited. But he’s too nervous to just say what he wants. He turns towards Louis and when he sees Louis’ upset face, it’s even harder for him to talk. 

“I want to talk to you about something too,” Louis says, turning his eyes away once again. 

“Can I begin? Because I’ve been preparing this whole speech and I just want you to listen and I need to say what I’ve wanted to say… For a while already.” Harry knows his voice is quivering. He knows he’s not breathing properly and that’s the reason why he’s feeling dizzy. He knows that this is over the top, but he wants this to be perfect, a grand gesture. 

 

Louis doesn’t say anything, so Harry takes it as a sign for him to start. 

“Okay, Louis,” he wants Louis to look at him, he wants to talk to Louis, not to the walls or to their dinner. He wants to see Louis’ eyes. 

He grabs the chair and turns it, startling Louis. He almost tips Louis’ chair over, but manages to keep the chair upright. He turns Louis, so his knees are between Harry’s. 

“Okay, I’ll start again,” Harry chuckles nervously and tries to breathe. Louis looks at him under his brows, his blue eyes deep, sincere. He waits and Harry knows that he needs to do this now or never. No matter if their food will go cold or if all the candles burn out. It’s now. 

 

“I love you, Louis,” he breathes out, making Louis lean his hands against Harry’s knees. Almost like Harry would’ve taken all the air from him, broken his bones and turned him into jelly. 

“I love you, have for a while now,” Harry continues, his hands resting over Louis’. It feels so good to say it out loud, finally, when he has only been thinking about this moment. 

 

“Harry…” Louis says quietly, but Harry can’t stop now. 

“Just hear me out, okay?” 

Louis looks up, his eyes wet. He looks like Harry would’ve just told him that they need to break up, end everything, not that he loves Louis. 

“I know that things have been a bit weird since the… Well since you had the audition. And I can’t deny that it didn’t make me angry or disappointed. I thought you would’ve told me about it, especially since you were so devoted to it last year. But then I thought, maybe you need it. Just because you were so dedicated to it, of course you need closure. And I’m sure you would’ve told me if there was some real reason for you to tell me. If you would’ve thought about actually going for it and leaving.” 

 

Louis looks like every word is a punch to his stomach. He goes pale the longer Harry talks and for a moment Harry thinks if he should stop. But he can’t, because the words just flow out and he can’t stop them. 

He want’s Louis to know about this, about his feelings. He wants Louis to know what he has been planning for them. He wants Louis to know that he has a great boyfriend. 

“I wanted to make this dinner, because I want to celebrate us. You did what you had to do and now we can be together. And that’s the other thing. I want to make this official. I want people to know that we’re together. I want people to know that I love you and that I’m serious with you. I want to call you my boyfriend outside my apartment and I want to shout it from the rooftops, not just tell Liam that we’re together.” Harry ends his speech, glad that he remembered everything. Almost proud that he said everything he had planned and didn’t leave anything out. This is the truth and he wants Louis to know it. 

 

But Louis doesn’t look that happy. He leans back, breathing deep. 

“Boyfriend?” He asks, his eyes staring Harry coldly. Harry takes a sip of his wine, letting the alcohol numb at least a small part of his nerves. 

“Yeah, well we are,” Harry chuckles, trying to smile, but he feels tears in his eyes. He doesn’t even know why he has tears in his eyes. Why he feels so hurt. 

“Aren’t we?” He asks, even though he doesn’t want to. He’s afraid of the answer Louis will give him, because it doesn’t look good. Louis looks angry, disappointed even. 

 

“We’re not boyfriends, Harry! And you’ve told Liam?” He stands up, almost knocking the chair down. Harry steadies it before he stands up too. 

“Yeah, you know, I just couldn’t hold it in anymore,” he tries to keep his tone even, his voice light, but Louis’ anger is kind of throwing him off. He feels like he should be angry too. But he doesn’t know why he’d be angry. He doesn’t even know why Louis is angry. 

 

“Harry! We made a deal to not tell anyone!” 

“I just thought that because we act like boyfriends, we are!” 

“For fucks sake Harry! We’re not together! We’re just sleeping together!” 

Louis’ voice makes Harry lose it a bit. He can feel the tears spilling, even though he wants to hide them. He wants to hide them so bad. This is not how he thought this would go. 

 

“Why are you so angry?” Harry asks him, feeling like he’s walking on sharp nails. Every step hurts, every word hurts. When he’s looking at Louis, it hurts even more. 

“I saw you with that other guy!” 

“What?” Louis is not making any sense. 

“When you were hugging that other guy at university after one of our duo rehearsals!” Louis is really losing it. But what guy? Harry hasn’t been… 

 

“You saw me hugging Liam!” Harry can’t keep himself calm much longer. His feelings are a mess exploding all over the walls. 

“What?” 

“I was hugging Liam because his parents are getting a divorce!” Louis looks like Harry has finally shut him up. Is this really just about him hugging someone? Louis breathes out a long breath, not facing Harry anymore. 

 

“I had the audition and I got in, I found out earlier today,” Louis says with a low voice, not able to look Harry in the eye. Harry can’t say anything. It seems like Louis said something, but he can’t understand the language he used. 

“Did you hear?” Louis asks, confrontational. 

“Yes, but I don’t get it…” 

“What part don’t you get?” 

“You got in?” Harry is trying to grasp the truth. He’s trying to understand. 

“So, it’s a great thing and you can tell everyone that you got in, but… You won’t go, right?” 

 

“What the hell Harry? Why do you think I’m not going to go?” 

“Because we’re together!” 

“We’re not together, Harry!” 

Louis is stabbing Harry with his words. I had an another audition, _stab_. I got in, _stab_. I’m going, _stab_. We’re not together, _stab_. What else? 

 

“You didn’t even tell me about the audition,” Harry says more to himself, but he knows that Louis hears it too. 

“I was thinking about telling you, but then I thought because we’re just fooling around…”

“We’re dating!” 

“It doesn’t mean that we’re serious about this or together!” 

“So, this was just, what, mindless sex to you?” Harry can’t believe what is happening. Just a moment ago he was telling Louis that he loves Louis, and now he’s learning that the one he loves thinks they’re not even dating, not really. Just having a casual, fun fling. 

 

“Was that also the reason why you didn’t want anyone to know about us? Because this meant nothing to you? You didn’t care at least a bit?” Harry can’t believe that Louis wouldn’t have cared, because he has seen that Louis does care. He cares so much. But he’s not letting himself feel the things he wants. 

“Of course it meant something to me and of course I care, but this was never a relationship. I thought we both wanted that.” 

“Why do you think that?” 

“I don’t know.” 

 

“So, you won’t stay?” Harry doesn’t even want to hear anymore. He already knows the answer. But maybe he’s a masochist and he wants to torture himself. Maybe he wants to kill all hope, so there’s nothing for him to cry about. 

“Why would I stay? There’s nothing holding me back,” Louis says like it’s the most obvious thing. 

“I just fucking told you I love you?!” Harry doesn’t mean to say it like he does. The way Louis is looking at him; like he just grew an extra head, that he’s a freak and Harry needs to be fixed, makes Harry feel like he should just throw Louis out. But he doesn’t. He can’t even move. 

“I’m not going to change my life for you, I’m not going to change my dreams for you! I didn’t apply because I was alone, I applied because I don’t like myself in this environment and I want the spot. I did the audition, because my goal is to leave!” 

 

They stare at each other. Harry feels empty, like he would’ve thrown up all he has ever had. All his memories, all his emotions, all his desires. He has thrown them out there, just to see them getting shredded by the person he loves. 

“I think I’m just going to go,” Louis says when they don’t say anything for a good few minutes. The silence is deafening, hurting maybe even more than the words did. Louis stands there, in front of Harry, not doing anything, even though he said he was going. Why isn’t he going? 

“Just go then!” Harry yells. He doesn’t want to see Louis’ face anymore. He doesn’t want to remember anything from his time together with Louis, even though he can’t take his memories back. He can’t just erase them like nothing ever happened. Apparently, Louis is able to do that though. Apparently, Louis can just decide what he feels and what he doesn’t feel.

Harry wishes nothing would’ve ever happened. Why was he so stupid to think that this would work out? It never does, it never will. Especially when it comes to Harry. 

 

Louis leaves without a word. Harry can hear him putting on his shoes, his jacket. He waits for something, but then he opens the door. Harry can hear the steps he takes, before he’s out the door. The door closes. Harry stands in the candle lit living room, hoping they would all fall and burn him alive. It’d be better than getting his heart ripped apart. 

Because Louis did, he did rip it apart. Louis wasn’t different from the others. He was even worse. He made Harry feel, and then he decided to set Harry’s feelings on fire, not caring at all. 

He was just like any other guy Harry has been with. This time just with feelings. 

The door closes inside Harry’s head a hundred times more, the sound echoing over and over. Harry blows the candles out, going straight into his room, pretending it never happened. But it did and just like that, Louis becomes a name on a list, where there’s only one name before his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? What are you expecting from the last chapter? Let me know here in the comments or come and talk with me on [tumblr](https://shadowofyoursong.tumblr.com/) :)  
> I'll be giving you the last chapter on the 11th of November. I'd update earlier, but I'm starting uni again after our autumn holiday and then I'm seeing Harry in Sweden!! Yaay! 
> 
> So, a couple of weeks and then the end is here! See you then :)


	8. End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, I'm giving you the last chapter. I'm so sorry that I wasn't able to give it to you on Wednesday (like I first said)... My after concert blues were horrible, but now, I'm here with the last chapter which is also the longest :)
> 
> I want to thank everyone who has read my fic and who have left comments. They all mean so much to me and every comment has made me smile. Also, I really appreciate my friends [happythoughtslivelonger](http://happythoughtslivelonger.tumblr.com/) and [backtobeingus](http://backtobeingus.tumblr.com/), who have helped me in so many ways. 
> 
> Here's the music to this last [chapter](https://open.spotify.com/user/_hally_/playlist/2kKSzW4hPkbDp3YjKECNeE)  
> Ultravox / Vienna  
> Mew / Comforting Sounds  
> Sigur Ros / Varoeldur  
> Santigold / Creator  
> Library Tapes / The Fragile Tide  
> Isaac Gracie / Silhouettes of You  
> S. Carey / Fire-Scene - Alt. Version  
> Julie Byrne / I Live Now as a Singer  
> The Strokes / Last Nite  
> Jack Johnson / Wasting Time  
> Aquilo / So Close To Magic  
> The National / Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks  
> Kanye West / Hold My Liquor  
> X Ambassadors / Unsteady  
> Mogwai / Take Me Somewhere Nice  
> Delta Spirit / California  
> The Joy Formidable / Endtapes  
> MIKA / Last Party 
> 
> Enjoy!! <3

Everything moves in slow motion. His eyes. His feet. His hands. His whole body. Even his thoughts. They try to catch up with what just happened. The audition. He messed up. And not even for a good reason. 

He danced. He was doing okay. Until he realised that he wasn’t listening. He didn’t know what song was taking over him. Until it hit him. There should’ve been a lift. And he was alone. He stopped. And then started again. Since then everything has been in slow motion. Everything in his life is going in slow motion. 

He messed up because he was dancing his and Harry’s choreography. He was hearing their song in his head. He was doing his part from the routine. And he only felt Harry in his mind, dancing with him, keeping him company. 

 

Louis messed up because he was thinking about Harry. The one he didn’t want to think about when he’s planning his future. The only part of his life he’s too scared to think about. The only part of his life that he wants to keep separate. Harry just came and messed up his chances at getting into the school he wants, from getting to move away from New York. 

Before Louis pushes his keys into the lock, he closes his eyes. He knows Niall is there. He wants to hear everything. He wants to know what happened. How it went. How confident Louis is feeling. And he’s not. He knows he won’t get into London. He breathes deep, in and out, until it feels like his lungs don’t work when he’s breathing so slowly. 

 

“Louis!” Niall runs from the living room to meet Louis at the door. When he sees Louis, he stops in his tracks, slowly approaching. 

“Go for it, I know you want to ask.” 

“That bad?” 

“Niall, I couldn’t stop thinking about Harry! I went there, danced, and in the middle of my own choreo I realised I was dancing the choreo from the spring program! Guess what the evaluation board looked like? They looked like I had gone mad! I’m never going to get in!” 

Niall doesn’t say anything; which Louis is glad about. He doesn’t want to talk about it. He’s too disappointed, embarrassed, angry. Angry at himself, angry at Harry. Why did Harry creep into his mind in the middle of everything, in the middle of something so important to Louis? 

 

He picks up his bag from the floor, where he dropped it, and walks into his room. He doesn’t want to be around Niall. He doesn’t want to see anyone for the rest of the day. 

He locks himself inside his room, hears Niall follow him and wait outside. He doesn’t know what Niall is waiting for, but he doesn’t ask Niall either. He leans against his door and lets his legs give out. The only thing he can think about is the dance. Not his dance, but his and Harry’s dance. And here he is again. Thinking about Harry. His hands touching Louis’ body, holding him, dancing. 

Does Harry care? Louis digs out his phone from his bag and turns it on. He’s afraid there’s going to be something, but he’s also afraid there won’t be anything. Does Harry care? He waits for the phone to come alive and when it does, there’s nothing. He checks the messaging app, and nothing. No word from Harry. Louis knows Harry heard him and Niall talk before he had to leave. And Harry doesn’t care. 

He really doesn’t care if Louis had an audition or not. He doesn’t care that Louis lied to him. He. Doesn’t. Care. 

 

Louis wipes his mind clean. Clean of dancing, of Harry. He goes to bed and closes his eyes. He makes a decision. If Harry doesn’t bring it up, he won’t bring it up either. Just a silent deal between them. Neither of them talks, neither of them has to know what the other thinks. 

He makes another decision. He can’t think about Harry anymore. It’s a waste of time. Apparently, he doesn’t care enough to least somehow confront Louis about what happened today. It’s enough for Louis to remind himself that it will never happen. It’s just him and it’s just Harry. Never us, never we. 

They might be sleeping together, but it’s never going to evolve into something more. If Harry doesn’t care, why should Louis? Why should he spend his time thinking if he did the right thing by not telling Harry? Why should he feel bad for Harry hearing his conversation with Niall, when Harry doesn’t even do anything with the knowledge of Louis lying to him? Easy. Louis lets it be. 

But why does it hurt so much? Why does it hurt to think that Harry doesn't care enough to talk with him? 

 

\- -

 

A week and a half. Nothing. No word from Harry about him knowing what was going on. They meet almost every evening, and nothing. 

Louis kicks Harry out before Harry can say anything to him. Louis watches Harry put his clothes on and tells Harry to go. 

Harry leaves with a smile on his face. 

And it hurts even more. 

 

\- -

 

He sits on the couch. His phone has dropped out of his hand just a moment earlier, because he can’t feel his hands anymore. He can’t feel anything anymore. 

He can’t feel the tears that fall from his eyes, the way he’s biting his lower lip and bruising it, the way he’s digging his nails into his palms or the way his stomach flips over and over, making him nauseous. He doesn’t know what it all feels like anymore. 

 

“Louis?” Niall shakes his shoulder, finally waking him up. Louis looks back, and then back towards the coffee table in front of him. 

“Has something happened?” Niall sits next to him, picking Louis’ phone from the floor. 

“It was the school.” 

“And?” 

“They want me.” 

They want him. He’s wanted somewhere. 

 

“What? But you said it’s over!” Niall stands back up, too shocked to sit. 

“I thought it was over. But they said they liked the unusual performance and the way I portrayed confusion and uncertainty.” 

“Are you serious?” Niall is almost screaming, Louis has never heard his voice this high. 

“I’m not sure anymore.” He can’t be sure about anything anymore. How could he trust this moment, when he can’t believe anything right now?

 

“Louis! You got in!” Niall is now definitely screaming, accompanied by enthusiastic jumps. 

“I got in,” Louis repeats, but doesn’t know what those words mean. He got in. They liked him. And they want him. Does Harry still want him? Will Harry care if he goes? 

“I’m going to wait for them to mail me the information, so I know it’s actually happening,” Louis says, mainly to himself, because Niall is making weird whooping sounds and running around the apartment.

He’s sad Iris isn’t here, because she could celebrate with Niall when Louis isn’t capable yet. Niall comes back into the living room, out of breath and kneels in front of Louis. He grabs Louis’ shoulders and shakes him. Wakes him up. 

 

“Louis! You got in! Your dreams are coming true! You get to move back home!” Niall yells to his face, a smile bigger than the sun exploding on his face. Something in his expression makes the glass around Louis’ bones break. It hits him. 

“I got in!” Louis yells back and lets Niall lift him to his feet from the couch. 

“You got in!” Niall repeats, and a laugh louder than a jet engine erupts from his mouth. 

“I got in!” Louis yells with him and they jump, they jump until it feels like there’s no floor left. They just jump in the air and never land again. 

 

“You got in,” Louis hears in his head after he has been screaming his throat raw with Niall. It’s not in his own voice, but Harry’s voice. 

He needs to break the silence. He needs to face Harry. It’s only fair. They can call it off now, whatever it was. He’ll tell Harry and then they can just dance, like nothing ever happened. 

“Are you going to call your parents?” Niall asks him, his voice rough. His parents. 

“Yeah, I’ll do it now,” Louis says and takes his phone. He needs to calm down, even though he feels like he can’t calm down for the next few months before he moves back to London. He walks into his own room, but something aches with every step. 

 

He closes his door. And knows what it is. It’s his heart, broken into dust. 

 

\- -

 

Harry is in flames, burning, burning more and more, and Louis can’t do anything. He’s watching Harry, seeing him crumble like he himself has been crumbling since the news from yesterday morning. He’s burning in the candlelight, pieces falling from his skin to his feet, changing from Harry to someone else. 

“Just go then!” Harry yells, his cheeks bursting with red, when his eyes land on Louis for the last time. Only for a second, he gives Louis to see the green disappearing into black, before he turns away from Louis. It’s over, officially over. Louis knows. 

He walks away, leaving pieces of his own in Harry’s apartment. He feels like he’s burning too, he’s burning with Harry, but with different flame. He’s digging his soul with a burning shovel and wants to rip it apart, he wants to rip his feelings apart. The feelings he has for Harry. He can do it, because that’s what he is, soulless. 

 

He puts on his shoes, pulls them on slowly, hoping, listening. He hopes Harry will fight, that he’ll fight back, not take what Louis is giving him. Louis wants anything, even when it’d be the worst words spilling from Harry’s lips. He wants to have a reason why he’s doing this. He wants to have a reason why he doesn’t want Harry. Why he doesn’t want Harry’s love. 

Nothing happens. He’s standing there, in the foyer, listening, waiting. But nothing. It’s like he’s alone, that he would’ve come here and realised that this is not the right place. That he’s in someone else’s apartment. He’d give anything for something to happen. To prove him wrong or to prove his point. 

Harry’s not there anymore. Louis opens the door, holds onto the handle for hope, and steps out. He sees the warm flicker of candles in the empty home, wishing it wouldn’t have ended this way. He wishes he would’ve been honest, open. He hopes he would’ve told Harry that he’s not ready. That he’s too afraid. That Harry is only going to get hurt because Louis wants to run away. This is him, running away. 

He closes the door. Nothing happens. The world doesn’t tilt, the walls don’t crash down on him. It’s like nothing happened. It’s like none of the words was said. Harry didn’t make them dinner. Didn’t light a hundred candles for Louis. He didn’t say that he loves Louis, he didn’t. 

But he did. 

 

Louis leaves, walking down the stairs one by one, holding the railing like the steps are covered with banana peels. He hopes the railing will just give in, throw him over the edge and he doesn’t have to deal with this. But it doesn’t happen. He steps down, on the first floor and walks out of the building. 

He stops at the door, when it has already closed behind his back. He thinks about turning back, opening the door and going back up. 

He’s dreaming about knocking on the door and waiting for Harry to open it. When he eventually would open it, Louis wouldn’t wait anymore, he wouldn’t be afraid anymore. He’d hug Harry, hold him and tell Harry how sorry he is. How he hurt Harry. And that he wouldn’t do it again. He’d do it, if he’d have the courage. He’d do it, if he wouldn’t be so scared. 

What is there to be scared of anyway anymore? He got hurt, he hurt Harry. That was his biggest fear. He doesn’t even know what hurts the most. Knowing that Harry is up there, bleeding from his open heart, or hurting himself from the fear he has all the time. 

 

He decides to leave. Nothing’s going to change. He won’t be a hero, who can staple someone’s heart back together. He can’t even do it to his own heart. 

He feels it pulsing in his chest like an open wound, bursting with everything he has. He’s spreading his sadness all over Manhattan, pretending his legs work like before. He’s pretending, pulling on that _everything is fine, everything is okay_ \- mask over his face once again. He hides behind it, thinking he’ll be fine. Well, he will be fine. But with what cost? Is it all worth it? 

 

He reaches home after walking the whole way. He needed the air, because he feels like his lungs are about to collapse. Maybe they already did. He tries to breathe, but it just aches all over his lungs, his heart. He turns the keys in the apartment door and is met with silence. 

There are lights on and Niall’s and Iris’ shoes are neatly next to the door. He waits to see either of them when he walks in after taking off his shoes and jacket, but it seems like no one is home. But there is. He can hear Niall’s voice. He walks behind Niall’s door, listens and it hits him. 

 

He misses Harry. He misses Harry so much that his legs shake, and he needs to lean his hand against the wall. His heart is missing. He doesn’t know when he’ll find it, when he’ll be brave enough to find it. It’s hard to breathe knowing that he just threw away someone special for something else special. 

He made a decision, and now all he can wonder is if he made the right choice. He knows he did, but it’s splattered with doubt. 

He hates that Niall is such a romantic. He hates to live under the same roof with a troubadour, who likes to spill his heart out on paper and sing the thoughts to his loving girlfriend. He hates to feel this way towards his friend, who he cares about, but envies at the same time. He hates it. Hates! It! 

He walks away, trying to pretend he didn’t hear Niall singing a love song made just for her. He pretends that he’s alone, he pretends that this was all a bad dream, when he closes himself in his room. 

 

He hides under his duvet, and finally lets himself cry. He buries everything in his pillow, that smells like Harry. His bed smells like Harry, all over, and it’s wafting in the air, contaminating everything in his room. 

Harry is in his room, even though he’s not physically there. Louis lets it be, he wants to have this last moment with Harry even though it’s not real. Tomorrow he’ll change his sheets, clean thoroughly, delete Harry from his room. 

Now he lets his tears wet his pillow. He lets them soak his memories, while he tries to keep his sobs silent. He imagines Harry comforting him, when that will never happen. It was all a dream, in its happiness and sorrow. But now it’s over. And he lets himself feel it for the first time. Admitting it to himself. 

He’s in love. 

And the thought vanishes into the Harry scented air. 

 

\- -

 

Louis feels like he hasn’t slept for days, even though it was only one night. His eyes aren’t co-operating at all, telling him to stay in bed, but his body is telling him otherwise. 

He knows he did close his eyes at some point, because there are some moments that have faded into the night. But those moments were short, because then he opened his eyes again and wondered why he’s still living, breathing, his heart racing. 

He can’t believe he made it through the night. The pain is even worse now, than it was yesterday. He can’t, doesn’t want to change his sheets, because he doesn’t want to lose every last bit of Harry from his life. This is the closest he’ll get to Harry from now on and he’s not ready to say goodbye. 

 

With heavy limbs, he climbs out of bed and looks at himself through the mirror. He’s pale, palest he has ever been. His eyes are red, puffy from crying the whole night. He’s staring at himself and doesn’t know who the person in the mirror is. It’s a person, who he can’t say is Louis. It’s a person, who is thoroughly broken. 

He looks thin under his baggy clothes he changed into in the dark of his room. Yesterday’s clothes are lying on the floor, lifeless, like that’d be him. His clothes are his skin, now on the floor in a messy pile. Maybe that’s why he can’t recognise the person in the reflection. Because this is someone new. Someone who he needs to get to know. Someone who he might not like at first, but who he has to live with. 

He listens for others on the other side of his door, but there are no sounds. He doesn’t know what time it is, but it has to be morning. The sun is rising behind a thick blanket of clouds somewhere far away. It’s not even light yet, but a new day is arriving. 

 

A daze hazes his mind, when Louis walks out and into the living room. Nothing has changed. He goes into the kitchen, seeing the spotless counters and empty sink. Aron must’ve washed up yesterday, because there was a tower of dirty dishes waiting for someone when Louis got water at some point. Niall doesn’t usually do the dishes, he likes to do other cleaning duties in their apartment. Should Louis clean more? Has he been attentive of his flatmates and what their home looks like? 

He’s trying to distract his mind, but even thinking about cleaning doesn’t take away the look on Harry’s face he saw last night. Louis makes tea with shaky hands, afraid he’s going to wake everyone up by hitting pots and pans with his tea mug. He listens for a moment, sighing when there’s no indication the others heard him. 

Sitting at their dining table feels cold and lonely. He’s on his own, sipping his tea while he stares at the steam reaching towards the ceiling. The intricate shapes the steam manages to make under Louis’ breathing are his friends now, because he has never felt this alone. 

Not even in here, while he has been in New York. This is a much more complete loneliness. Sometimes he likes to be alone, he thinks it’s even healthy in this environment, but being lonely is like someone has taken your insides and you have to breathe through an empty body. 

Everything is cold and plain, and the silence around him is even worse than before. Now there’s nothing covering his shivering body completely, just clothes that aren’t enough. 

He sees his own reflection in their toaster, looking back with a twisted expression. This time it’s definitely not him looking back, that person doesn’t even exist. 

 

Niall’s door opens, and Louis looks back to see Niall tiptoeing out with wild hair. He closes the door quietly and walks into the bathroom. He didn’t see Louis. It makes Louis feel like he has turned invisible. Maybe he has. Maybe it’s better than actually being here. 

He doesn’t want to face the world like this. It’d be much better to see what happens when he’d be invisible to everyone. Then he could have a bit of time to himself, he could see Harry and get used to seeing him. He could get used to being around Harry at the studio and they could work together, without any unpleasant tension or hatred. 

He knows Harry hates him. There’s no doubt about it. And that’s something that scares him. He doesn’t want to see Harry’s face, the person who didn’t even know what Louis’ name was. He doesn’t want to go back in time, he wants to move forward, but he also hopes everything would just settle down. 

He listens to Niall walking out of the bathroom. He’s already expecting to not be seen, but Niall stops, and Louis knows he has been discovered. 

 

“I thought you were at Harry’s,” Niall whispers, walking over. His hand brushes Louis’ shoulder and Louis wants to hide his face from his friend. He doesn’t want Niall to see him like this; heartbroken. When Louis doesn’t look up, Niall sits down next to him. 

“What happened?” 

“I think we’re done,” Louis says, his voice cracking even when he’s whispering. 

“What?” Niall leans a little closer. 

“Me and Harry aren’t anything anymore. It’s over.” 

Louis dares to give Niall a glance, only to see the horrified look on his face. Like Louis would’ve worn the scariest monster mask and decided to surprise Niall with it. 

 

“Are you sure?” Niall tilts his head, worry in his quiet voice. 

“Yeah, I’m sure. Besides, there was no chance for me and him to work out, I’m leaving and he’s staying.” 

“Louis, I know this sounds silly, but in a way, I was thinking there might’ve been a small part that was thinking about staying, even though you’ve decided to go.” 

“Of course I’ve thought about staying, and it’s not even a small part that wants to stay. But I need to do this. It’s going to get better, I just need to get through this.”

 

Niall sighs deeply, then stands up. Louis follows what he’s doing under his brows. Niall takes his own mug and pours himself a cuppa. 

“Just tell me exactly what happened, maybe we can still fix it.” 

“There’s nothing to fix, Niall. Me and Harry are over.” 

“I won’t believe it until you’ve told me what happened yesterday.” 

 

Louis doesn’t say anything, which makes Niall finally lose his temper.

“Louis, you like him and he likes you, what’s so difficult?”

 

Louis feels embarrassed, embarrassed and stupid.

“Harry told me he loved me,” he says it under his breath, trying to somehow make it sound less important than it actually is. Niall’s face twists with surprise, his brows high. It’s replaced by confusion right after, and Louis knows why. 

“You fought about it?”

“That was just one thing. He told his flatmate even though we promised we wouldn’t tell anyone about us.”

“Like you told me?” Niall asks, sipping his tea like he’s exposing Louis and his feelings.

“You guessed it!”

“And when did Harry tell his flatmate?”

“I guess this week,” Louis shrugs, darkness casting its shadow over him once again. He doesn’t want to think about this, when the wound is still so fresh.

 

“So, I figured it out weeks ago, because I set you guys up, and Harry tells his flatmate about you two because he’s in love with you? Yeah, Louis, great that you can see what’s happening here,” he shakes his head and pours honey into his tea. He stirs the liquid with a spoon and then tastes it, a small smile spreading across his lips. 

Louis stares at him, wondering what goes through his friend’s mind. Why does he smile at his tea when he has put honey in it? And why does he stick his nose into Louis’ business even though there’s no reason.

 

“There was also something else.”

“What, he asked you to marry him? I hope you called the cops, that sounds outright criminal behaviour!”

“Haha, you come up with the weirdest things to say when someone is saying something serious,” Louis stands up and takes his tea with him, his plan to go back to bed.

 

“Okay, Louis, I’ll stop with the jokes, but you have to be honest with me,” Niall gestures him to sit back down. Louis stares at the chair for a moment, deciding he might as well talk with Niall, when he needs to talk about this with someone anyway. 

“I saw him hugging some other guy,” Louis gives Niall a stern look, knowing that Niall is definitely listening to what Louis has to say.

“When was this?”

“A few weeks back.”

“Do you know who the guy was?”

“And he didn’t tell me anything about it!”

“Louis, this just sounds like you know who the person is. You know who it is, don’t you?”

“Well, that doesn’t matter because it was his flatmate and he needed some support. My point is that whatever he does, I’m always questioning his intentions and if he’s truly being honest.”

“Louis, he was hugging his flatmate and you’re thinking he’s cheating on you?”

“Well, at that moment I did think he was having a few other guys who he sleeps with besides me,”

“And then you found out it was his flatmate.”

“Well, yeah,” Louis knows that Niall is going to lay it hard on him. He’s not going to hold back, if he’s going to say something. And he does.

 

“Those are all just really bad excuses, Louis! You’re not giving him a chance at all!”

“Are you Dr. Phil now?”

“Yes, that’s what I do, group leader during the day, Dr. Phil by night.”

He doesn’t say anything else. Louis was almost positive Niall would say something more, but he just stands up and starts to walk towards his own room. Louis peeks into Niall’s mug, seeing that there’s still some of his tea left.

 

“I know you want to say something else too,” Louis invites, instantly regretting it.

“Yes, I do. I’m not going to be holding your hand with this one, but I will say, that you’re a true idiot. He tells you he loves you, and you turn it against him by blaming him telling his flatmate. Then you see him hugging someone and you blame him of cheating, when he was helping his flatmate! Those sound like excuses to me,” Niall turns around and tilts his head, his voice cold. He shakes his head, sighing when he looks at Louis. 

“You know how you feel about him, why don’t you let yourself be with him?” His voice drops, knowing that he spoke too loudly. 

 

“Because I’m going away, Niall, I’m not going to stay for him, even though he thought I would.”

“He thought you’d stay for him?” Niall comes back, stands next to Louis and looks at the wall, his brows pulled together tightly. 

“Yeah, he thought I went to the audition just to have closure or something, but I wouldn’t actually leave because we’re together or something. Even though we’re not. Maybe I said that we’re dating, but in the end, I thought that dating for us was only sleeping together, nothing more. But he thought that we’re really together and he wanted to make it official. What is there to make official, when I’ve been preparing to go away, keep this light between me and Harry and rehearse for the spring program…” His voice dies down, when he hears his own words. 

He told Harry they’re dating. And dating is never just about sleeping together. Dating is the first step towards a relationship. When did he start to have cold feet? Did he always have cold feet? Was Harry the one who was open and ready for anything and everything, even a serious relationship, and Louis the cold person, who didn’t show any emotion? 

 

Niall sits back down, still looking at the wall. He looks like he’s trying to understand everything, put pieces together even though there’s too many of them and some of them don’t even fit together. But he’s trying to piece the puzzle together, make it work. 

“You told him you’re dating… Now he has feelings for you and you have feelings for him, but you’re still trying to pull away…” He sounds like a therapist, really, who is listening and making his own deductions. 

 

“I’m sorry Louis,” he says, surprising Louis. 

“For what?” 

“It was unfair of me to pair you two, when I knew you had a crush on him. And now you’re in this situation.” 

“It’s not your fault. I could’ve said no to you, but I didn’t, and I let it happen with Harry. I didn’t think something would actually happen and I definitely wasn’t prepared for it to last so long.”

 

They’re both silent. Louis thinks back to the moment when he first started to look at Harry differently. It wasn’t even anything special. They were in rehearsals last winter. They were sitting on the floor, listening to Niall talk about some dancer, who was his inspiration. 

They had to come up with their own inspiration, think why that dancer inspired them the most. What in their style of dancing was so captivating, why they wanted to be better dancers. Then Niall showed them a DVD of his inspiration, dancing and talking about his career and his own inspiration. 

Louis heard Harry snickering with Nico, and he couldn’t keep his eyes away from Harry after that. He heard what the dancer was saying on the DVD, but his eyes only saw Harry. Harry, who smiled when the dancer was shown dancing. Harry, who narrowed his eyes when the dancer was talking. 

 

Since then Harry just was there. Louis saw him, he saw Harry’s technique, he heard Harry’s voice. Since then he was captivated by Harry, who didn’t see anyone around himself. His eyes were cast downward, and his smile was rare. 

Usually, Louis didn’t even hear him talk, when he was talking with Nico. It was always Nico, Harry spoke with. But when he did hear Harry’s voice, it was soft and rough at the same time. It made goosebumps rise on his skin, the hair on his body standing still. Since then Harry was the person Louis saw. 

And he’s throwing Harry away. 

 

“It’s my fault, really,” Louis says quietly, while he stares at his own hands. He feels Niall’s eyes on him, waiting for him to say more. 

“He’s so good, and I feel so different around him. I don’t recognise myself with him, and I’d like to get to know the person I become when I’m with him. He’s giving me so much, and I’m afraid of him.” 

“Afraid of him?” 

“Or maybe I’m afraid of the feeling he gives me,” Louis knows it’s that. He’s afraid of what he could have with Harry.

“He loves me and I’m afraid. He makes me so happy that my hands shake, and I can’t recognise myself in the mirror anymore. It’s like everything explodes into life when I’m with him.”

“Louis,” Niall says, making him look up. 

“That’s called love,” he smiles gently, his hand resting on Louis’ forearm. 

“I know.” 

Niall shakes his head with that same stupid smile on his face. 

 

“I’m going back to bed.” Niall stands back up and starts his way towards his room. 

“Louis, even though you’re afraid of it now, of loving him or getting hurt, you’ll see that sometimes it’s worth the risk.” 

Louis only nods, not able to meet Niall’s eyes. He feels tears brimming his eyes, knowing that Niall is right. Niall leaves him alone, which is both good and bad. Louis doesn’t want to be alone, but he needs the quiet to think. 

He knows that he’s only trying to find excuses not to love Harry, even though he already does. He doesn’t want to get hurt, because he’s afraid what it might do to him. He’s afraid he won’t handle the heartbreak, when this already hurts so much. 

 

He takes a sip out of Niall’s mug. The tea is cold, and sweet, but not too sweet. It’s just right, and it makes him smile a sad smile, when he knows that he and Harry could be just right as well. 

 

\- - 

 

Louis stays home the next day, when he should be at practise. He sits on the edge of his bed for far too long, trying to decide if he should go or not. Until Niall tells him that he shouldn’t come. “You’re not able to focus”, Niall said. So, Louis stayed home. 

The entire day he thinks about Harry. If Harry’s going to ask Niall how he is or if Harry wonders why he’s not there. If Harry talks about him. If he texts Louis, tells him to come to the practise. But of course he doesn’t text, why would he. He’s angry, and for a good reason. Louis doesn’t blame him. He’d be angry too, if he was Harry. 

He doesn’t know how he’s even supposed to approach Harry tomorrow when he has to be at the rehearsal. He doesn’t know if he should go and talk to Harry first, ask Harry if he still wants to dance with Louis. Or maybe he shouldn’t, maybe he should just pull Harry to the side and tell him that they’re going to dance, that this doesn’t have to affect them. Even though it does, but they can be professional. 

 

He feels someone shaking him awake, someone sitting on the edge of his bed. His heart starts to fly right away, out the window and towards the sky, becoming a star. He opens his eyes, meeting Niall’s expecting gaze. 

“Have you slept all day?” He asks, smiling. 

“No, not all day,” his heart slows its pace, disappointed that it’s not Harry. 

 

“How was it today?” Louis asks, knowing that Niall can hear the real question he’s not asking. 

“It was good. Remember that tomorrow we’re going to be practising at the stage, you’re coming, right?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” Louis wonders if he should just ask. 

He doesn’t get the chance though, because Niall stands up and walks out the door. Louis follows him go, feeling even heavier than before. 

 

“Louis?” Niall peeks back inside, his face made of stone. 

“You could rehearse the choreo with Harry in front of the others from now on,” his voice is tight, and he clears his throat. Louis’ heart picks up its pace once again.

“You decided that, so it’d be easier for everyone?” He thinks he can’t see correctly, that Niall is somehow distorted in the doorway. He also knows the answer to his question. 

“I didn’t decide it,” Niall says the words quietly, looking away. He leaves Louis, this time not coming back. Harry. He asked Niall to dance the choreo in front of the others. He doesn’t want to be alone with Louis. 

The cracks in Louis’ heart burst open, pain filling his senses once again, like it would’ve stopped. But if it’s possible, now it’s even more painful than before. 

 

\- -

 

Louis steps into the performance hall. It’s huge, and he feels small standing in the back. There are people on the stage already, warming up and talking. Their voices echo in the huge space, creating an eerie sound. Louis walks closer, his feet like cement against the floor. Niall comes onto the stage, talking on the phone. He sees Louis and nods his head as a hello, with a smile on his face. 

He’s followed by Nico, whose eyes land on Louis. Nico gives Louis a tight smile, before he walks back behind the curtains on the sides. Then he walks back out, with Harry this time. Nico looks at Louis, his eyes apologetic. Harry doesn’t even turn his head. They walk on the other side of the stage, Harry standing with his back towards Louis. 

“Hi!” Ezra greets, walking past Louis. 

“Hey, do you know where I can leave my things?” Louis asks him, hearing his own voice ricocheting off the walls. 

“Yeah, just walk straight and turn right, you’ll find the locker rooms there,” he smiles, as Louis thanks him. 

 

He finds an empty locker, pushing his bag in before he starts to take off his jacket and shoes, changing into his practise gear. 

“What’s with you and Harry?” Wes sits on the bench next to Louis’ locker. Louis swallows, hoping Wes doesn’t see how nervous he is. 

“Nothing, why?” He doesn’t want to hear whatever Wes has to say. 

“Oooh, nothing, he was a bit tight yesterday, that’s all,” he has a snide smile on his face, shrugging. 

 

“What do you mean?” 

“No, I think it’s nothing, but yesterday Niall told him that you weren’t coming, and he said good or something. And then he messed up your choreo completely, when he showed it to the others. He didn’t remember anything. I also heard him talk with Nico, though I don’t know if they were talking about you, but he said like… ‘I hope that twat breaks his legs and never comes back”, or something.” Wes keeps smiling through the words, like what he’s saying is the nicest thing someone can hear. Louis’ stomach flips and he wants to throw up. Of course Harry is angry, he has every right to be, but how can they dance together now? 

 

“Nothing’s going on, me and Harry are good,” Louis tells him, trying to hide his shaking hands into his bag, ostensibly trying to get his dance gear out. 

“Okay, good, because I’ve heard Niall hyping your performance to everyone. It’d be a shame if it’d be ruined.” Wes stands up and walks straight out of the door. Louis tries not to make Wes’ words affect him, but they do. He drops to his knees, his head against the bench. He tries to breathe his nerves out, but they seem to get worse the longer he’s breathing. 

With cold sweat dripping on his skin, down his neck and his back, he manages to change his clothes. The aisle backstage is cold and empty, he can hear music coming from the stage. He tries to calm himself, let himself breathe, but he can’t stop his hands and legs from shaking. He’s like a leaf in a summer storm. 

 

Ezra and Vin are doing their choreo on the stage, everyone else sitting in the audience. Louis has to walk on the stage and down the stairs, getting everyone’s attention. He jogs into a free seat, giving Harry a glance. What he gets in return is a hard look, that could break his legs like Harry wants.

He sits down, tucking his hands under his thighs. He’s watching Ezra and Vin, but doesn’t see them. His brain is not registering anything that’s happening on the stage. His anxiety makes him forget everything around him and shoots through the roof. 

 

The performance ends and Wes steps on the stage. He gives Louis a smile, before he starts his choreo. He is good, there’s no denying it. Louis wishes he wouldn’t have to dance today, dance at all. But he has to. Wes’ dance is over too soon, Lloyd following right after. Louis feels like he doesn’t even hear the song that plays, booming through the speakers. The rest of the group is cheering when he does an impressive leap and pirouettes. 

Lloyd stops and Louis thinks for a moment that there was some sort of a mishap, but he walks off the stage with a wide smile on his face, everyone congratulating him. 

 

Louis dares to look at Harry, who isn’t in his seat anymore. He’s walking towards the stage. Louis stands up, almost tripping over his own two feet. He hears Wes laughing in his own seat, making Louis even more nervous than he already is. He feels everyone’s eyes on him, watching if he’s going to fuck everything up. 

Harry stops, taking his spot. 

“We don’t have the props?” Louis asks, walking past him. Harry shakes his head, his jaw tight. 

 

The music begins. Louis wants to hide behind the curtains on the sides of the stage, but his legs won’t move. Harry looks like he could rip Louis apart in one swift movement. He walks closer, Louis’ heart is in his throat. He tries to rake through his head to find the right choreo, but it’s not there. He can’t remember what he’s supposed to do. He just wants to fall on his knees and feel Harry’s arms around him. He wants to apologise, but he can’t. 

They start the choreo, and he knows he’s not delivering like he’s supposed to. When Harry touches him, it’s rough and emotionless, full of hatred and annoyance. Louis tries to breathe, but he finds himself holding his breath and forcing himself to live with that one lungful of air. He can’t look into Harry’s eyes, but he feels Harry’s gaze boring into him like lava. 

 

The song comes to its end, and Louis can breathe again. Harry leaves the stage straightaway, leaving Louis alone. He sees Wes’ pleased face, knowing that his words got under Louis’ skin. 

“Let’s practise the group choreos for the rest of the day,” Niall announces, watching Louis get off the stage. Everyone stand up and walk onto the stage, Louis ready to quit.

“Are you okay?” Niall asks him quietly, his hand on Louis’ shoulder. 

“Yeah, I just need to take a break,” he tries to smile, but he knows he’s not fooling Niall. He drops the half-arsed smile and breathes instead, his ribs aching with every inhale. Niall nods, going onto the stage with everyone else. 

 

Louis finds his way into a toilet, and splashes cold water on his face. He leans down, his head between his knees. He needs to breathe, he needs to find his lungs again, he needs to make his legs work. He has never had trouble dancing no matter what, and it started with his second audition. He feels like he can’t dance at all anymore, he can’t even remember his own choreo. 

In the mirror, a stranger stares into his eyes. This is someone new, someone, he hasn’t met before. Someone who he can see breaking into pieces right in front of his own watchful eyes. He doesn't want to look at that person anymore, but he doesn’t have an option, because this person is screaming at him. 

It’s telling him to leave, and never look back. Telling him that this is what he gets if he puts his heart into something, if he trusts someone with his heart. If he gives up space from his heart for someone who isn’t Louis. The words start to echo inside his skull. He closes his eyes, but the words don’t stop. The screaming doesn’t stop. 

 

He opens his eyes, sees the stranger furious in the mirror. The stranger opens his mouth and a strangled shout leaves his mouth, before Louis’ hand collides with the mirror, breaking it. The stranger is gone, and Louis is there, in the cracks. 

He’s breathing heavily, his adrenaline rushing through his veins. He looks at his hand, blood falling from the cuts on his knuckles, down his fingers, into the sink. He tries to wash the wounds, his whole body hot with anger and fear. He has never acted like this, never been aggressive. The cuts don’t stop bleeding, even though they don’t look too deep. He needs to get out. Just get out, not stay here any longer. 

 

The door flies open, Harry on the other side. He looks horrible, but not in the way Louis expects from him after Saturday. His eyes are wide, his cheeks pink, and the only word in Louis’ head is scared. 

“You wanted me to break my legs, but I guess I broke my hand instead,” Louis says grimly, not able to move. 

“Are you okay?” Harry asks, taking a step forward. 

“You think I don’t care? You think I don’t want you? You think I don’t have any feelings? I’m not giving up London for someone, but it doesn’t mean I don’t care. Because I fucking care, Harry! I care, but I can’t say what you want to hear and what I want to say, because I’m afraid of what could happen next!” It all bursts through his mouth, his voice hoarse and broken. He’s breathing, barely able to stand straight.

“Louis…” Harry takes another step forward.

“No! Don’t come near me!” A new energy buzzes in his body, finally making him move. 

 

He runs past Harry, knowing that he’s being dramatic. He’s the person New York has made him, and he doesn’t want to be that person, but he can’t shake that person off either. He goes straight into the locker room and takes his stuff, not changing his clothes. He’s still running, when he finds the exit from backstage and gets on the street. 

He’s breathing like his lungs might give up on him. He starts to run again, afraid Harry might follow him, but he’s too tired. He slows his steps until he’s slowly walking towards home. His hand starts to ache, when he realises what happened. He knows he’s still bleeding, but he doesn’t have the strength the care about that. 

He gets home, where Aron is playing his saxophone. It’s a melancholic, slow song, which makes Louis’ eyes sting with tears. He goes into his room, and sits on his bed, empty and powerless. He can’t let Harry cloud his mind all the time, but Harry’s smell is strong in his room once again, and it aches in his heart like the cuts ache in his hand. With a heavy head, he falls back, closing his eyes and hoping he’d just bleed until the pain is over. 

 

\- -

 

Louis is making tea, stirring it in his mug after adding honey. He has wrapped his hand with a bandage and taken painkillers, hoping it’d affect his other pain too. For now, it has only numbed the ache in his hand. 

“You left early?” Niall asks him, standing next to him, leaning against the kitchen counter. 

“Wasn’t feeling well,” Louis mutters, not really in the mood to talk about it. 

 

“What happened to your hand?” Niall leans a little closer, his eyes on Louis’ bandaged hand. He hides it in the pocket of his hoodie, hoping Niall would drop it. He can explain it later, pay for the mirror. But he doesn’t want to go through with it now. 

“Nothing,” he lies, knowing that his effort to make it sound believable is close to zero. 

 

“Harry came and talked with me today, after the rehearsal,” Niall says, like he’d just make some chatter. Louis glances at him, but turns his eyes away immediately when he sees Niall watching him closely. He got Louis’ attention, if that was his intention. 

“He told me that he smashed a mirror in one of the toilets backstage.” 

“He what?” Louis doesn’t know if he heard right. 

“Yeah, and he even showed it to me. There was blood everywhere.” Louis swallows, his hand stings. 

“You know what was weird?” Niall asks, and Louis looks at him, knowing that it’s enough of an answer from him. 

“His hands were fine,” Niall looks towards Louis’ hand once again. 

“I’m not going to report it, just so you know,” he says, giving Louis a meaningful look. 

 

“I’ll leave you to it,” Niall nods towards the tea, that’s steaming in front of Louis. 

Louis doesn’t know what to think. Harry covered for him, but why? Especially after what Louis has done to him, after breaking his heart. He has every right to be angry and disappointed, and now he’s handling Louis’ fuck-ups, like he would’ve done something wrong and he needs to conciliate it. 

Harry calls later that evening, but Louis doesn’t answer. He stares at the screen of his phone, watching Harry’s name until the call ends. Maybe he wanted to ask how Louis is, maybe he wanted to say that Louis needs to pay back somehow for Harry’s lie. 

Louis knows that it can’t be the last. He hopes there’s a third option. 

“I love you too,” he whispers in his empty room, to no one, and goes to sleep in the same sheets where Harry has slept. 

 

\- -

 

Louis stays in the performance hall after everyone have left. It’s quiet, too quiet, but he likes it. He wants to hear himself breathing, he wants to hear the steps he’s taking across the stage. 

He needs to practise the choreo, because it feels like every time he and Harry dance it, he forgets it. He dances it every time for the first time, fumbling with his steps and clumsily doing what he’s supposed to. He has forgotten what it’s like to be confident, how to perform. 

Harry doesn’t talk, hasn’t said anything for a few weeks. Louis is already used to it, even though he longs to hear Harry’s voice talking to him. But he has lost all hope for them to be at least some sort of friends anymore, because Harry doesn’t even look at Louis anymore. They’re two people dancing together, without any connection, and separated like they’d be magnets repelling each other. 

 

Louis dances in the quiet, listening to his own body. He imagines an audience in front of himself, imagining Harry with him. It’s the night of the performance. He imagines they’re dancing, while the music is almost too loud. Harry’s hands are tender on him, finally showing some emotion. He imagines himself giving in and dancing until there’s nothing else he can do. He’d be pleased with himself and after their performance, he’d have the guts to tell Harry that he loves Harry. 

Imagining it all hurts like a stab wound in his chest. He tries to get the image of Harry out of his mind, but he can’t. 

His room doesn’t smell like Harry anymore. He had to wash his sheets and they’ve lost the homely smell of the person he cares so much about. He can’t remember what it was like to wake up next to Harry, until he’s alone in his own room, in the dark, where he can suffer without anyone knowing. He can’t remember what he looked like when he was the happiest he has been, and he feels like every time he sees his own reflection, he looks grey and lifeless. 

 

He dances while his feet ache. He’s trying to keep the dance in his mind, but it disappears when he has danced the last steps. He starts again, and again, and again, until the dance is just a collection of frustration and pain. 

He dances, feeling tears stream from his eyes. 

He dances until he can’t see anything anymore, his vision blurry. He drops to his knees, letting himself feel it all. He pulls his knees to his chest and presses his head between his knees, trying to catch his breath. 

He feels like the floor is tipping over, billowing under him. It’s harder to breathe and even though he’s trying to, it feels like he’s drowning. The tears just keep flowing out, and it seems like there’s no end. 

 

“Louis?” A voice asks timidly, making Louis look up. Harry stands at the side of the stage, looking worried with his brows pulled together. Louis wipes his face, but his hands are already wet from his tears and make him look even more pathetic. 

“I’m fine, just go,” Louis says, but doesn’t make any move to show that he truly is fine. He hears Harry coming over and sitting next to him. His body feels electric next to Louis’. They’re still those magnets, but this time they pull together. 

Harry wraps his arms around Louis’ shoulders, pulling him closer until Louis is against his chest. Louis is holding onto him, like Harry would be driftwood on a current, saving him from inevitable drowning. His hands are cramping for holding on so tightly, but the tears are still flowing. 

Harry rocks them slowly back and forth, his cheek against the back of Louis’ head. Louis keeps his eyes closed, wanting to savour this moment for as long as he can. But his tears find their end, and he’s left with hiccups. Harry caresses Louis’ back with his other hand, his other hand gripping his elbow. Louis is cocooned by Harry’s body, keeping the insecurities and sadness away. 

 

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Louis rasps, his hands letting go of Harry’s arm. 

“Don’t apologise,” Harry whispers. Louis sits up, his red eyes finding Harry’s teary ones. 

“I’ve missed you,” he whispers, and Louis feels like he can’t trust his voice anymore either. 

“I’ve missed you too,” Louis says, but his lips move without a sound. 

“Do you want me to go?” Harry asks, this time clearing his throat, so at least something comes out. Louis wants to say no, so it’d be easier for the both of them. 

“No,” he says instead. 

“Okay.” 

 

They’re both staring out at the empty seats in front of them. The spring program becomes realer and realer, not holding back. It’s in two months, expecting to show only perfection on this stage. 

“It feels like we’ve practised our choreo much longer than we actually have,” Harry says, twisting his fingers gently. 

 

“Why are you still here?” He asks, looking at Louis with his other brow raised. 

“I wanted to practise the choreo, I have been having a bit of issues with it lately if you haven’t noticed,” Louis rolls his eyes, getting a small smile out of Harry in return. 

“What about you?” 

“I was talking with my sister on the phone,” he shrugs, sighing deeply. 

“I didn’t know you have a sister.” 

“We haven’t been in touch a lot after I moved here. She’s a few years older than me, she has a life of her own, but we’ve never fallen out of touch even though we wouldn’t hear from each other that much,” he says. His voice soothes Louis. 

 

“You were practising our choreo?” Louis nods. 

“You want to dance it with me?” Harry asks, surprising Louis. 

“Okay, yeah, let’s do it.” 

 

Harry stands up and helps Louis to his feet. He starts his way towards the music player, but Louis stops him by grabbing his wrist. 

“Let’s dance through it without music at first,” he says, his hand burning against Harry’s skin. 

“Sure,” Harry steps back and they take their position. Louis counts quietly to three, before they start. The music starts to play in Louis’ head, his eyes fixed on Harry. They move as in the air would be filled with music, but now it’s just their breathing and light steps against the floor. 

Harry’s hold is firm, but so gentle at the same time, making butterflies flutter in Louis’ stomach. He’s not afraid to look into Harry’s eyes now, when they’re alone. He hears his own heart rapidly beat inside his chest, hoping Harry’s not hearing it. They finish, stepping back away from each other. 

 

“Should we try with music?” Harry asks, and Louis answers with a nod. He leans his hands against his knees, before Harry is back and the music starts to play. It hurts their ears after the silence, but this time Louis feels like he doesn’t have to put so much effort into remembering the choreo. It comes out easily, and he only has to worry about the technique. 

Harry is giving one of his best performances, even though Louis is the only one seeing it. He’d want more people to see Harry dance and know how good he is. 

The last few notes play from the speakers, and Louis steps back like their choreo tells him to. But Harry follows, which isn’t supposed to happen. He takes Louis’ wrists gently into his hands, and the music stops. 

 

Louis freezes, his ears ringing and his eyes seeing blur. Harry steps closer, dropping Louis’ hands. He finds Louis’ cheeks instead, his thumbs caressing away the salty stains on his skin. He leans forward. Louis closes his eyes, feeling Harry breathe against his skin. 

Harry’s lips gently press against Louis’ eyelashes, dragging against his cheek before he kisses Louis on the corner of his mouth. He pulls away, but then kisses Louis again when he sees Louis doesn’t open his eyes. Louis fists Harry’s shirt gently, pulling him closer. It’s all it takes for Harry to know it’s okay. 

His hands travel into Louis’ hair and his waist, his fingers holding on so tightly that they might bruise Louis’ skin. Louis lets Harry kiss him until he can’t feel his legs anymore and he becomes lightheaded. 

 

“Harry…” Louis manages to speak through deep breaths, when Harry kisses his neck. 

“Hmm,” he hums against Louis’ skin, his voice vibrating in Louis’ body. 

“Is this a good idea?” Harry stops immediately. Louis feels small in Harry’s arms, shy in a way that makes his cheeks burn. 

“You’re right, maybe it’s not a good idea,” Harry sighs shakily. But he doesn’t let go. He stands in front of Louis, his hands still on Louis’ body. 

 

“I hate what you do to me,” Louis whispers, before he pulls Harry back in and presses their lips together, their teeth clashing together and biting their lips until there’s a metallic taste in both of their mouths. 

“Wait here, I’ll get my bag,” Louis leans back, his whole body shaking with anticipation. He runs backstage, and into the locker room. When he comes back, Harry is where he left him, still waiting. He has picked up his own bag from the floor, and put on his jacket, but he still managed to get on the exact same spot where him and Louis were standing together just a moment ago. 

 

“Come,” Louis grabs his hand and they run out of the performance hall. Louis holds onto Harry’s hand and Harry isn’t letting go either. 

“No one’s here?” Harry asks out of breath when they reach Louis’ building. 

“No,” Louis doesn’t want to start explaining what his flatmates are doing, he only cares about having Harry in his room again. They reach Louis’ home door, when Louis finally lets go of Harry’s hand to open it. He holds it open for Harry, and they walk straight into Louis’ room, like they wouldn’t have enough time in this lifetime. 

 

Louis pushes Harry against his door, when he has closed it. Harry’s hands find their place on his waist, hot and strong, pulling Louis against his front. They rub circles on Louis’ skin over his shirt, until Harry moves them to touch his burning skin. He pulls Louis’ shirt off completely, encouraging Louis to pull off Harry’s jacket and his shirt. They’re standing with their tops off, skin against skin. It’s comforting to feel Harry’s skin again after missing his touch for weeks. 

Harry pushes off the door and walks Louis backwards towards his bed, until they fall on it. They don’t let go, not able to do anything else other than kiss and feel, because they haven’t kissed or felt for far too long. 

Harry undresses Louis while his mouth keeps kissing his collarbones and throat, trying to cover every inch of his chest with light kisses that leave Louis shivering. Louis sits up before Harry can take off his pants. He looks up to see Harry’s bright eyes, and draws small shapes on his skin, when he slowly pulls the rest of Harry’s clothes off. 

 

Louis stands up to push off the extra pillows off his bed, Harry already kissing the back of his neck and shoulders. His hands wrap around Louis’ body, holding him loosely. His hands undress Louis completely, out of his clothes and out of the mask that hides his true feelings. Louis turns in his arms, linking his hands behind Harry’s neck. 

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” Harry whispers in his ear, sealing the words with a chain of kisses down his neck to suck a love bite on his chest. Louis closes his eyes, and his world tips over. This time it’s not because of anxiety, but because the happiness that blooms in his heart and spreads all over his body. Harry keeps him close, wants to feel him close. 

 

Louis listens to Harry’s heart beat in a steady, powerful rhythm, that just makes sense to him. It makes sense to be here with Harry, in his arms, and feel Harry’s body pressed against his own. It makes sense to feel what Louis feels, when it comes to Harry. Who wouldn’t love him, when he’s caring and gentle, whispering magic against Louis’ skin, breathing in and out in this small space between their faces, between kisses. 

Harry is hot against Louis’ palms, living, treasuring the time he has with Louis. His skin is like the softest silk a person can ever find. Louis watches his own hands against Harry’s chest, running his fingers up and down the burning skin. He feels like he’s melting at the same time when his broken heart is finally recovering and mending itself. It doesn’t hurt when it beats, and it doesn’t hurt when Louis breathes. 

 

Louis throws his head back, his eyes closed in euphoria. Harry sits up, steadying him and slowly letting him fall back against the mattress. He settles on top of Louis, breathing against his skin while giving him an occasional kiss on his jaw, his cheek, on the side of his nose, the corner of his brow, on the freckle under his eye. 

He doesn’t let go, and when Louis opens his eyes and looks dreamy in a hazy world where no one else besides them exists, Harry kisses his lips, gently. Louis doesn’t want to let go of Harry, not now or not tomorrow. He wants to feel like this all the time, not just some parts of the day or… 

 

He thought he had already cried enough for today, that there wouldn’t be any more tears left. But some still soak his eyes and fall down towards his ears. Harry notices it, and kisses the tears away. 

“Harry…” Louis breathes, not wanting him to stop, but afraid the wound in his chest, in both of their chests, might be worse this time around. 

“Don’t think about it now, we can talk about it later, but not now.” 

“I don’t want to hurt you anymore. I don’t want you to trust me not to hurt you, leave and snap you in half like a twig,” Louis feels hopeless, and it seeps into his voice. Harry stops, but doesn’t let go. He looks at Louis with tender eyes, wiping away the tears with his thumbs. 

“I can’t promise you anything, this is all I can give you now,” Louis swallows, trying to breathe through the pleasure that mixes with sadness.

“It doesn’t matter if you hurt me or not, what matters is that we’re here now. And I want to be here as long as you’re here.” 

 

Louis combs his fingers through Harry’s hair, knowing that it’s not going to end well. They both know it. They’re both going to get hurt in the end, there’s no way around it. 

“We’re here now,” Louis repeats Harry’s words. 

 

“I want to say it, but I can’t. I’m sorry, Harry,” Louis doesn’t want to cry anymore, not when they’re having sex. He wants this to be something that he can smile about, not something that will make his eyes swollen the next day. Harry leans forward, his mouth against Louis’ ear. 

“I love you,” Harry whispers so quietly, that it’s like a falling leaf hitting the ground on the first autumn day. Louis stops breathing for a second, and when he finds his lungs again, his breathing shudders. Harry smiles at him fondly, pressing his forehead against Louis’.

“You don’t have to say it, when I know it,” Harry tells Louis, which is enough for now. Louis really wants to say it, but the words just don’t want to come out. Instead, he kisses Harry tenderly, once, twice, making the third one last a small eternity. 

Harry holds Louis, not giving up, not letting go. He doesn’t want to give up his hope on them, even though their hope is the smallest. He still presses his hopes onto Louis’ skin in every kiss that he spreads across Louis’ body. 

 

\- -

 

Louis watches Harry sleep in the light of his bedside lamp. Harry’s lying on his back, his face turned away. His hair is messy, his chest slowly rising and falling. His body is radiating heat, keeping Louis warm even though they’re not even touching. Louis can see Harry’s pulse on his neck, slowly beating under his skin. 

Louis gets the urge to touch him, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to wake Harry up, not when he looks so calm and lovely. For a moment it feels like it’s not even real, to have Harry in his bed, but it’s real. It’s not a dream constructed by his brain that misses Harry all the time. He’s here and Louis is here, in the same place, next to each other, in quietness. 

 

He studies Harry’s tattoos on Harry’s arm and chest, the ink carefully pushed into Harry’s skin. The pictures are alive with Harry’s body when he breathes. Louis reaches his hand towards Harry’s arm, and touches the rose as gently as he can. 

Slowly, with the tip of his finger, he caresses the lines. It reminds Louis of a time when he was at Harry’s and Harry woke him up by following the lines of his collarbones with his fingers, then kissing them gently. 

The memory makes Louis smile, his insides gooey of how heart wrenchingly cute Harry is at times. Well, most of the time. Other times he’s romantic and sexy and strong, with the nicest smile and brightest eyes. He has weird jokes that make Louis laugh and his voice always stirs something in Louis, either in his head or in his chest. 

Harry can be dominant and scary if you don’t know him; that’s what Louis thought about him before he got to know Harry. It didn’t last long though, because Harry became vulnerable and someone who matters. Louis had already noticed Harry, but he knew nothing about Harry. And suddenly Harry was a person with a past and a present. He wasn’t just a pretty face with a pretty body. He was _someone_. 

 

Louis pulls his hand back when Harry scratches his arm, maybe thinking that Louis’ fingers were an insect that had landed on him. He takes a deep breath, turning his head, then falling back into the same sleepy breathing pattern that makes Louis close his eyes as well. Listening to Harry inhale and exhale is like a lullaby that reassures Louis he’s not alone. Because he’s not and he doesn’t want to be. 

It doesn’t last long though, before he starts to think it through, him and Harry. He doesn’t want to be alone, but he’s not going to stay either. He also knows that Harry has a life here. It’s inevitable they’ll break up again, if they keep doing this. 

Is it worth it, to have your heart broken again, than just ending it now and deciding that they can only be friends from here on out. Can they be friends anymore? It might be hard, especially with all their feelings in the way. 

Louis stares at Harry’s chest, trying to form some sort of a solution in his mind for their situation. They need to agree on what they’re going to do next. They need to realise what’s going to happen when the semester is over. 

 

“How long have you been awake?” Harry asks with a rough voice, startling Louis. 

“Sorry,” he chuckles when he sees Louis’ wide eyes. Louis shakes his head, a hint of a smile on his lips. 

“A while,” Louis answers him. 

“You want anything?” Louis asks, turning around and scrambling up. Harry grabs his arm and pulls Louis back down, against his chest, wrapped in his arms.

“You,” Harry whispers in his ear, tickling the hair on Louis’ neck. Louis can’t help but feel happy in Harry’s embrace. Harry drapes his leg over Louis’ legs and keeps him steady by pressing his head against the side of Louis’ face. 

“Okay,” Louis whispers back, closing his eyes and holding onto Harry’s arms. They lay tangled in each other for a moment, before Louis sighs deep, not able to relax anymore. 

 

“Harry?” He asks, seeing from the corner of his eye that Harry has closed his eyes as well. 

“Hmmm,” Harry hums, his arms tightening around Louis. 

“Don’t you think we should talk about it?” He’s nervous how Harry will react. Is he still angry at Louis? Is he going to leave and tell Louis to just pack his things and leave so they don’t have to see each other again? 

 

Harry sighs, his arms easing away around Louis. But he doesn’t push Louis away or pull away completely. He sighs again, lifting himself up against the pillows on Louis’ bed, still keeping Louis in his arms. Louis feels small when he’s against Harry like this, his back against Harry’s chest. Harry has his head against the pillows and Louis’ head rests against his skin. Harry takes Louis’ hand into his and entwines their fingers, rubbing circles on the back of Louis’ hand with his thumb. 

“Yes, we do need to talk about it,” he says, quietly, his voice heavy. Louis looks up, seeing Harry’s eyes fixed on their hands. 

“What are we doing?” Louis asks him, watching his face. From his position, he can only see Harry’s eyelashes and the highest points of his face. Until Harry looks down and his mouth tries to break into a smile, but it doesn’t. The corners almost turn upwards but he looks too sad. 

“I know you’re leaving, and I guess you know I’m staying.” Louis manages to only nod, he doesn’t trust his voice. 

“And I want you to know that I’m happy for you, even though I’m not happy that you’re going. But I want you to be happy, so I have no choice.” 

 

Louis can’t look Harry in the eyes anymore. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him, why he feels like crying again. He turns their hands and he takes Harry’s hand into both of his, following the lifelines on Harry’s palm with his fingers. 

“I don’t want to hide my feelings either, Louis. I want you to know how I feel, even though we don’t have much time left before you’ll go. I can’t hide what I think when I see you or when we spend time together.” 

It’s going to be painful, incredibly painful, when he will go, he knows it. He’s not just leaving a potential relationship, but it’s Harry he’s leaving, a special person in his life. But would he rather break up now or wait until he’s leaving? Would he manage to see Harry at rehearsals and know that Harry wants him, or do this now and then be left with a memory of them together even though it will last only for a short time. 

 

“I don’t want you to hide them from me, your feelings,” Louis tells him, his heart beating erratically inside his ribcage. He wants this, he does, even though it scares him so much that he feels like his head might blow up. 

Harry doesn’t say anything, giving Louis the courage to say more, give Harry a piece of his thoughts and what it all means. He doesn’t mind if he feels like crying, he can’t really help it now. He looks up, his hands clinging to Harry’s and holding on tight. He sees Harry’s green eyes watching him, fearful, his breathing in and out of him in a steady, quick rhythm. 

 

“I’m scared, Harry,” he simply says, truly feeling it. He’s damn scared of having such strong feelings towards Harry. 

“I might not be able to say it out loud, but I do, Harry. I don’t want to hurt you ever again, I don’t want to see you like that ever again. But I know that we’re both going to end up broken when I leave, and it scares me. That’s why I don’t want to say it.” Harry gives him a long look, before he nods quietly. 

“I understand,” he says, breathing the words out. 

“I also want you to know that even though we’re in this weird place, and I have strong feelings for you, I’m not going to stay. I need home, I need London. I miss it, and even though I’m going to miss you terribly when I go, I’m not going to change my mind,” he says the words deliberately, weighing them before he says them. He wants to do this right, lay it all out there so there won’t be any surprises. 

“I know.” 

 

“Harry?” Louis has his uninterrupted focus. 

“Do you think this is wise?” 

“Maybe not, but I can’t stay away either,” Harry says in one breath, stating the obvious. Louis knows it too. Harry turns his eyes towards their joined hands, turning Louis’ right hand towards himself. The wounds from the mirror have healed well, just a few faint cuts left. 

 

“I don’t expect you to say it, not if you’re not ready,” he talks quietly, like he’d say it to himself. 

“I know that you care, and I’m sorry that I said that you wouldn’t. I’ve known that you care, I was just upset.” 

“And you can be upset. I’d take it any day than you pretending nothing happened.” 

Harry smirks grimly. 

 

“I also didn’t mean that I’d want you to break your legs. It was unfair, sorry.” 

“Apology accepted.” 

“Where did you even hear that?” 

“Wes told me, he had heard you talking with Nico,” Louis wouldn’t want to think about that idiot right now. He wants to throw the mere thought of Wes away from his mind, away from this room, away from this building. 

“Why that doesn’t surprise me,” Harry rolls his eyes, his arms a little tighter around Louis. 

 

“Do you want to be with me until I leave?” Louis asks Harry, when they don’t say anything else in a while. 

“Yes,” Harry says without giving it a thought. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Are you sure you want to be with me?” Harry turns the question around, his eyes watching Louis closely. 

“I’m sure,” Louis doesn’t have to think about his answer either.

 

“Can we promise each other something?” Harry asks him, wrapping his arms around Louis, lifting him until Louis’ head is next to Harry’s and Harry’s mouth is right next to his ear. Louis turns his head as much as he can, their faces almost mushed together. 

“We’re going to be honest to each other. No messing around, no hiding, no keeping things from each other.” 

“Sounds good.” 

“Good,” Harry kisses Louis’ jaw. 

 

“You want to stay the night?” Louis asks him, not ready to let Harry leave. 

“What about tomorrow morning, if Niall and Aron see me here?” 

“I actually have something to tell you…” Louis bites his lip, hoping Harry won’t take it the wrong way. 

“Niall kind of guessed that we’re more than dance partners,” Louis says carefully. Harry stops breathing for a second, before Louis can feel him turn his head to see Louis’ face better. Louis looks at him in the eyes, not sure what he sees in Harry’s eyes; amusement or hurt?

 

“When?” 

“After the first night, I stayed over at your place,” Louis tries to smile, but he feels like he’s betraying Harry big time. 

“And you got angry when I told Liam about us…” 

“I know, I’m sorry, I was an idiot and just tried to… I don’t know what… I’m so sorry…” Louis scrambles himself up from Harry’s arms, turning towards him with his hands on Harry’s chest. Harry stares at him, until he breaks into a wide smile, followed by a low vibrating laugh. 

“What?” 

“Niall has known about us since the beginning?” 

“Well, he kind of put us together because he knew I liked you…” 

“Put us together?” Harry narrows his eyes, a disbelieving smile on his face. 

“You see, I had a crush on you since last year and he figured it out, so he put us together. I don’t know why, I think he wanted to tease me a bit, or then he just wanted to play cupid…” 

 

“You liked me even before the duo?” Harry looks shocked, just like Louis would’ve just told him that he’s not going after all. 

“A bit?” 

“You liked me!” Harry starts to laugh again, pulling Louis down and kisses him hard. Louis starts to laugh when Harry’s hands tickle his sides. 

“You like me,” Harry says more fondly against Louis’ lips. 

“I do,” Louis confirms, his cheeks heating up. 

 

“Okay, so Niall knows, Liam knows… Though I told Liam that we’re over, so I don’t know if he knows anymore…” 

“I don’t mind if he knows,” Louis tells him, almost proud of himself that he said it. He doesn’t mind if the closest people to Harry and himself know, he just doesn’t want _everyone_ to know. 

“You don’t?” 

“Naah, then we don’t have to sneak around anymore,” Louis shrugs, getting more tickles from Harry. He squirms in Harry’s arms, giggles leaving his mouth that doesn’t happen too often. Harry stops, sighing contently. Louis lays his head on Harry’s shoulder, relaxing against him. 

 

“Nico knows too,” Harry says. 

“He what? How?” Louis doesn’t get to relax too long. 

“He guessed it too. It was after we kissed, and he also saw right through me after we got together,” Harry tells him. 

“That’s why he has been so cheerful to me every time I say hi or something!” Louis slaps Harry’s chest, chuckling along as Harry laughs. 

“Is it okay he knows? I know he’s not going to tell anyone,” Harry asks, his laughter dying down. 

“No, it’s not okay! Get out!” Louis says, his face matching Harry’s worried one. 

“I’m kidding,” he grins, and kisses Harry. 

“It’s fine, he’s your friend and he’s a nice guy.” Harry sighs and kisses Louis back. 

 

“So, you’ll stay over?” 

“I’ll stay over,” Harry smiles, his hands stroking up and down Louis’ back. 

“I have one condition though,” Louis taps his finger against Harry’s nose endearingly. Harry scrunches his face, smiling. 

“No kissing in front of them.” 

“What about hand-holding?” 

“Okay.” 

“Patting your ass?” Harry raises his brows. 

“No!” Louis silently exclaims, making Harry laugh. 

“We’ll keep it subtle,” Harry smiles, before he slaps Louis’ bum under the covers, making him laugh. 

 

\- -

 

“Didn’t Louis say yesterday that we need to wake him up at seven so he can go to the studio before rehearsals?” Niall asks Iris, when they’re having breakfast. Iris is wrapped in a blanket, looking tired, sipping her tea. 

“I think so, yeah,” she says, going through her Instagram feed. 

“You think I should go and wake him up?” Niall stares at Louis’ door, that has been closed since yesterday. 

He didn’t see Louis all evening after he came home from the movies with Iris, even though they even brought Louis food like they promised Louis yesterday morning. Now it’s like Louis wouldn’t even be there. But he heard Louis last night using the toilet. How does he know? Louis always hits his nose to the cabinet door, and curses, when he opens it and takes out his toothbrush. 

 

“He’s going to be angry if you don’t wake him up, but he also might be angry if you wake him up too early,” Iris shrugs. 

“Yeah, you’re right…” 

“What time did he even come home last night? I didn’t see him the whole evening,” Iris turns to look at Louis’ door too. 

“I have no idea. I think he sneaked in when we were in my room,” Niall sighs, standing up and taking another cup of tea. He turns to look at the door once again. 

 

“I think he’s still down because of Harry. I’m going to go wake him up, if he wants he can stay in bed but he asked me to wake him up, so he can’t be angry at me for doing what he asked.” 

“You’re such a good friend,” Iris smiles at him. Niall chuckles and gives her a kiss when he walks past her. He gathers some courage before he walks in. 

He freezes. Louis is definitely not down because of Harry anymore. Rather… up. Louis stares at him with wide eyes, sitting on Harry, Harry’s hands squeezing his thighs. Harry looks just as shocked as Louis, looking like he’s not even breathing. Niall’s not sure if he’s breathing either. 

 

“Get out!” Louis yells, before he grabs a pillow next to Harry’s head and throws it at Niall. Niall runs out, slamming the door shut behind him. 

“Shut up!” Aron yells from his own room. 

“Sorry!” Niall doesn’t know who he’s apologizing to, Louis or Aron. Maybe both. Iris is staring at him perplexed. 

 

“What’s going on?” She asks, almost standing up and walking over. 

“No, just stay there, I’m fine,” Niall says, leaning his hands against his knees. He breathes for a moment, before he makes his way to the dining table and sits down next to Iris. 

 

“You’re not fine, what was that?” 

“Uhhh…” Iris looks at him more worried now, standing up. 

“Let me go and ask what’s his problem,” she says, already taking a few steps towards Louis’ room. 

“No!” Niall yells, grabbing her hand. She stops, going back to Niall and sitting down. Aron yells something muffled from his room, but Niall can’t understand what he said. Probably something in the lines of “shut the fuck up”. 

 

“What’s wrong with you?” 

“Louis is not alone,” Niall says, his cheeks turning pink, then crimson red, almost purple. Iris’ eyes widen, her mouth dropping open. 

 

“Yeah, he was definitely not alone,” Niall covers his mouth with his hand, staring at the table. They’re quiet for a moment, before Iris starts to giggle. She giggles so much that she has tears streaming from her eyes. Niall looks at her, not sure what he should do now. 

“You have to admit, it’s damn funny,” Iris says between laughs, clutching her stomach. The sound of her joy makes Niall relax, and laugh along. 

“We’ve lived under the same roof for years and I’ve never walked in on him with someone. I guess I had to see that someday,” Niall shakes his head, making Iris cackle even more. 

 

\- - 

 

Louis opens his door, standing in the doorway for a moment. Niall and Iris are sitting next to each other at the dining table, their backs towards Louis. 

“I can’t do this,” Louis whispers, Harry putting on his shirt. His hair is sticking out, and he tries to tame it, but Louis can only shake his head because even though Harry would comb his fingers through his hair a hundred times, it wouldn’t make a difference. 

“Yes, you can, let’s just go out there,” Harry comes to stand behind his back, his hands on Louis’ waist. He pushes Louis gently forward and he closes Louis’ door after them, making it impossible for Louis to run back and hide. They walk towards the dining table quietly, both of them staring at the couple. 

 

Niall looks up, eating a toast, but stops when he sees Harry and Louis side by side from the corner of his eye. Iris notices Niall freezing next to her, which makes her look up too and see Louis and Harry standing behind them. 

“Hiii! Good morning!” She exclaims, standing up and offering her hand towards Harry. He stares at it for a moment, smiles politely, shaking his head. Iris’ smile fades, pulling her hand back slowly. 

“I better wash my hands,” Harry clears his throat. Iris stares at him, a shiny smile on her face. 

“Of course! Good morning anyway!” She sounds like she has swallowed glitter for breakfast. Louis follows Harry with his gaze, when Harry leaves him alone, unprotected. Niall keeps staring at him, his eyes accusing Louis for not locking his door. 

 

“Niall, you can stop now.” Louis sighs, and sits down at the table, getting over himself. So what Niall saw them. It’s not like he’d be saving himself or not finding any company, or like Niall would be a virgin. 

“What, I haven’t done anything,” Niall shakes his head, his focus back on the toast in his hand. Iris wraps her arm around his shoulder, smiling at Louis with her head tilted. 

“He’s a bit sensitive,” she says, pecking a kiss on Niall’s cheek. 

 

“Tea?” Harry asks Louis, his brows raised, his hands clean. Louis gives him a quick smile and a nod, but gets back to the matter in hand. 

“Niall, you could’ve knocked.” 

“I didn’t expect to find you… with someone. Especially with Harry because you told me you’re not getting back together.” 

“Things change!” 

“Apparently they do!” Niall huffs, taking a too big of a bite off his bread. Harry sits next to Louis, giving him the mug. 

 

Iris shrugs at Louis, her eyes landing on Harry who is staring at his mug. 

“So, you must be Harry, the man who Louis and Niall always talk about,” she smiles. Both Niall and Louis turn to look at her, shocked that she said that out loud. 

“Really?” Harry starts to smile, looking at Louis suggestively. 

“I’m not surprised though, apparently you had paired me with Louis on purpose, Niall?” Harry leans his elbow against the table and takes a sip of his tea. 

“Someone had to help the poor guy out, he had been drooling over you for months…” 

“I didn’t drool! I was just interested!” 

“Yeah, right; ‘Hey, Niall, do you know if Harry Styles has someone? Do you know what his type is?’” Harry chuckles next to Louis, Iris hides her smile behind her hand. 

“Hey, I never asked you anything about Harry’s preferences or if he has someone,” Louis points at Niall accusingly. Niall just raises his hands in the air, rolling his eyes. 

 

“I guess you know what I like by now,” Harry states calmly, making Iris giggle. 

“Shut up,” Louis mutters, drinking his tea. They’re all quiet, sipping tea and munching on toast. 

 

“Really, Louis, you could give me a heads up the next time,” Niall says into his mug, before finishing the contents. 

“I’m not going to give you a heads up on anything, when you have your knuckles you can use to knock on my door.” 

“And you also have a lock on your door.” 

 

“Niall, are you really that sensitive about seeing two guys naked?” 

“No, not at all, but before seven am it’s a bit traumatizing.”

“You just stood there, you could’ve walked out when you even saw a glimpse! But you had to stay there and watch!” 

“I didn’t stay and watch!” 

“Yeah, you did!” 

“You kind of did,” Harry says quietly, reaching towards the toast. Louis squeezes his thigh under the table. 

“Isn’t this peachy,” Iris smiles, ending Louis and Niall’s bickering. 

 

“Did you even get to finish?” Iris asks Harry with a smile, and all the three guys turn to stare at her. 

“What, it’s a valid question! Doing it in the mornings is a great energy boost,” she says casually, looking at them one by one. 

They all start to laugh, all tension erupting. 

“Yeah,” Harry drawls, his eyes glinting. Louis smacks his shoulder, Iris having another laughing fit. 

“It’s not even 7.30 yet and this is what we’re talking about…” Niall stands up and shakes his head, taking an apple from the kitchen counter. 

“Don’t be such a baby,” Louis rolls his eyes at Niall, the easy-going atmosphere settling over them. 

 

“Are you two back together now or?” Niall asks them, Iris watching them closely. Louis looks at Harry, and for a moment he’s lost in their own little bubble. 

“Something like that until Louis leaves,” Harry says, brushing Louis’ hair off his forehead. 

 

“Isn’t it kind of bittersweet?” Iris questions. 

“I guess,” Louis tells her, the small smile on his face fading. 

“We’re just enjoying each other’s company,” Harry adds. Louis looks at him, knowing that it’s not just that. It is bittersweet to be with Harry, because they have feelings for each other but they both know it’s going to end. He looks at his hand on Harry’s thigh, and tries to be as cheerful as he can. He knows there’s a sadness in his eyes though. 

“It is what it is,” Louis says quietly, smiling at Harry. Even seeing Harry next to him, having him here, is bittersweet. He knows he’s going to keep this feeling with him for the rest of his life. Harry isn’t just some random person, he’s _someone_ to Louis. 

 

“I think what you’re doing is brave. I wouldn’t be able to be with the person I love and know that I’d need to break up with them in a couple of months,” Iris looks serious, her brows knitted together. Both Harry and Louis are staring at her, their eyes wide. 

“What did I do?” She asks, confused. 

“It’s so obvious you love each other,” she says, shaking her head, like it’d be the simplest thing. Maybe it is simple, for her, but for Louis it’s not. He sighs, pulling his hand back from Harry’s thigh. Harry doesn’t let him pull away, though, because he takes Louis’ hand into his under the table, entwining their fingers. 

“I think we’re going to leave you two alone,” Niall says, nudging Iris to come along. Louis can hear her ask Niall what the big deal here is and Niall mumbles something. 

 

“I’m sorry about that,” Louis apologizes to Harry, thinking how he can get out of this feeling of being on a fast track towards doom. 

“Don’t be… We promised, and we’re just going to take it one day at a time.” Harry presses his forehead against Louis’ shoulder. He breathes against Louis’ skin, then kisses his bicep. Louis turns until he’s facing Harry, so Harry can wrap his arms around him and keep him safe from his own thoughts and doubts. 

 

“Niall?” Louis stands behind Niall’s door, knocking on it once. 

“Yeah? Don’t come in,” he hears Niall’s voice. 

“I just wanted to let you know that I and Harry are going to have a shower and then we’re leaving,” he says seeing Harry come out of his room without a shirt. Harry smiles, going into the bathroom. 

“Okay!” Louis nods and leaves. 

 

“Louis!” He hears Iris’ voice. 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m sorry about what I said, I didn’t know that it’s a difficult thing for you,” her voice is muffled through the door. 

“It’s fine, thanks.” 

 

“Louis?” Harry asks quietly, peeking out from the bathroom. He invites Louis to come join him with a smirk on his face. Louis smiles at him, reaching Harry in a few steps and closing the bathroom door after them. He locks it and makes sure the door is definitely locked. 

 

\- -

 

“Are you sure you want to go?” Harry asks, holding Louis’ hands pinned against the mattress.

 

“I’ve already given them my answer and I’m leaving in a month,” Louis breathes heavily, closing his eyes.

 

“Are you completely sure?” Harry bends down, whispering the question into Louis’ ear. He releases Louis’ hands and steadies himself with his arms around Louis’ body. Louis holds onto him with his nails biting into his back, scratching and scarring.

 

“No, I’m not going,” Louis breathes, wrapping his legs around Harry. He smiles against Louis’ skin, kissing his neck, left collarbone and his jaw. Louis takes Harry’s head between his hands, looking Harry in the eyes.

 

“I’m staying, and you can take care of me and we’re never leaving this bed,” Louis groans, craning his neck back against the pillows. His arms fall around his head like a halo. Harry chuckles, kissing his open mouth. Louis responds by biting Harry’s lower lip, breathing into Harry’s mouth.

 

Harry holds him when the lights have been turned off and it’s quiet. His room is quiet, comfortable, and his bed is like a cloud. Louis strokes his fingers against Harry’s arm, his back against Harry’s chest.

 

“Will you stay?” Harry asks him again, knowing the answer.

“No,” Louis whispers. He lifts Harry’s hand to his lips and kisses his palm.

 

“I’m not staying, but I’ll stay for the night,” he says, looking back at Harry. He gives Louis a sad smile, his heart telling him to be careful. It’s telling him to take a step back. 

He closes his eyes, and gives Louis’ shoulder a kiss. He breathes against Louis’ skin, trying to record this moment into his memory. How it feels to have Louis in his arms, how it feels to hear his voice, feel him breathing. Feel him. He drifts off soon, his brain filled with images of Louis.

 

\- -

 

They’re practising the group choreos on the stage, Niall following from the audience. He’s barking directions and stopping the music at times when he wants everyone to listen to him. Louis is standing with his hands folded in front of his chest and his head tilted. He’s watching the dancers intently, his eyes narrowing every now and then.

 

Harry tries to follow the dancers as well. He needs to know what he needs to pay attention to when he’s dancing, if there’s something that he recognises in his own technique. But his eyes keep drifting to Louis and watching him, studying him. 

Harry keeps thinking if he could convince Louis to stay. If there’d be a way for him to turn Louis’ mind around and keep him here. Louis could still have his place at Juilliard, if he’d act quickly and pull back his resignation. They could look for a place of their own, it doesn’t matter where, but just a place where they could have their own home together. Louis could be happy here. He is happy. Harry knows it. Louis has said it. He’s happy. He could stay.

 

Harry could start working somewhere, so Louis can study his final year without any additional stress and then they could figure out together where they could go. They could think about the future, what could happen in a year, in three years, five years. Ten years. They could start a life together and build a foundation that won’t break.

 

Louis could say he loves Harry. He wouldn’t have to hold it in anymore. And Harry could say it every morning when they wake up. And every evening when they go to sleep. He could come up with endearing nicknames, though he doesn’t know how Louis would react to them. 

He wouldn’t have to think about it so much anymore, if it’s okay for him to say he loves Louis or not. He wouldn’t have to wonder if Louis really wants to hear it. Well, he probably likes to hear it. Every time Harry has said it, only a handful of times really, Louis has smiled fondly and it makes Harry fall for him even more even though he’s already filled with love. He doesn’t know where his love begins and where it ends, it just pours out of him when he’s with Louis. It tingles and burns, makes him smile.

 

They could make it work. They’d be happy. They’d have a future and do things that are exciting. They could be together without a guillotine hanging above their heads. There wouldn’t be any time limits or worries when they’re going to meet for the last time or what their last words to each other would be. It’d be easy, no hiding and going around, just them, together.

 

“Stay,” Harry leans down and whispers into Louis’ ear. Louis glances at Harry, sighing, but focuses back on the dancers.

 

“Stay,” Harry repeats, his hand touching Louis’ lower back.

 

“Harry, you know I won’t,” Louis whispers back, not even turning towards him to say it.

 

“I know,” Harry tells him, dropping the blade of the guillotine and killing his dreams. Louis leans a little closer, dropping his hands to his sides. His fingers touch Harry’s hand, and he entwines them with Harry’s.

 

“Soon it’s our turn,” Louis whispers. Harry looks down, watching Louis’ neck. He can’t think about dancing, he can only think about his chances with Louis. Soon it’s their turn, their turn to be together. But it won’t happen. There’s not going to be a turn for them, it’ll just end, like it wouldn’t have even happened.

 

“Yeah,” Harry answers him, trying to breathe his disappointment out. He follows the dancers, seeing Wes fumbling with his steps.

 

“Wes! Focus!” Niall yells, but doesn’t stop the music.

 

“He’s not as good as he wants everyone to believe,” Harry whispers into Louis’ ear. He hears Louis’ low chuckles, when he leans closer.

 

“Did you know that Niall has been promoting me and you as the best part of this performance?”

 

“No?”

“Yeah, I guess he has talked with other instructors and teachers,” Louis sounds happy even when he’s whispering. Harry can’t help but smile, knowing that dancing is the only thing that can make Louis genuinely happy. Maybe Louis is happy with him too, but it’s a different kind of happiness. Dancing can set him free and give him wings. Harry can only cut them and keep Louis to himself, which would eventually kill Louis’ happiness.

 

“Okay, thank you! Let’s take the last duo. Louis, Harry!” Niall orders, waving his hand to guide the group to the side of the stage and make room for the two.

“Star couple, do your best now, please,” he looks stressed, wanting to get out as soon as possible after a long day of rehearsals.

 

Their prop table and chairs are brought to the stage and they take their place. The music begins, and Harry forgets they have an audience. He dances and lets Louis have his wings.

 

\- -

 

He’s holding Louis steady against his body, his hands tightly holding Louis’ legs. Louis has his palms against Harry’s chest, his hair falling on his eyes.

 

“Stay,” Harry says, not really meaning to say it. But he still does.

 

“Can we not talk about this when you’re in me?” Louis asks, his eyes glassy, his pupils blown.

”Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” Harry breathes. 

 

“I can’t help it Louis, I hope you’d stay,” He says, shaking his head, trying to keep his mind clear. But he can’t. It feels too good, making him squeeze his eyes shut. 

“Open your eyes,” Louis tells him, his hands resting against the sides of his head, his thumbs stroking his cheeks. When Harry opens his eyes, he’s met with Louis’ smiling face. 

“I know, and I wish I could stay, but I’m not going to. You know that, I’ve told you many times. Now, we can talk about this later, but not when I’m about to come,” he kisses Harry’s lips, tasting sweet, like oranges he so often likes to eat. 

“Yeah, okay,” Harry hums, feeling himself close too. 

 

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore, “ Harry tells Louis after, when they’re lying side by side, facing each other. 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah, I know you’re not going to change your mind. Even though I wish you would.” Louis doesn’t say anything, he only stares at Harry with sadness in his eyes. He scoots a little closer, until his head is on the same pillow as Harry’s. 

 

“Don’t be sad, Harry. It’s not worth it,” Louis holds his hand against Harry’s neck, stroking his skin slowly. 

“I am sad, and I’m going to be sad. There are only two weeks before the spring production and then you’re leaving. It’s not easy to let you go.” 

“It’s not easy for me either, but we need to think that maybe this just wasn’t the right time for this. Maybe we weren’t meant to happen yet. If we were, I wouldn’t have wanted to apply for London and I wouldn’t feel like it’s the place where I need to go.” 

 

“Do you need to go there?” 

“Yes, I want it,” Louis confirms, his eyes watching into Harry’s, showing uncertainty, not confidence. 

 

“I told you I’m happy for you, and I am, but it’s hard to show it now when our time is almost over.” 

“You sound like we’re dying,” Louis chuckles. Harry rolls his eyes at him, but can’t help but smile. 

“We can always call each other, or send texts, skype? And if you’re in London or I’m here, we can meet up.” 

“What if either of us meets someone new?” 

“Then we’ll just be friends,” Louis blows at Harry’s face gently. 

“Eyelash,” he smiles. 

“Did you wish for anything?”

“If I tell you, it’s not going to happen,” he says brightly. Harry kisses him, hoping he could stay in this moment for much longer. But it’s over already, it’s all in the past. This day at the studio, this evening watching some old movies with Liam and laughing at inconsistencies in them, the past couple of hours with Louis in his room, the past minute... 

 

Harry listens to Louis breathing, still on the same pillow. He keeps his eyes closed, his heart racing and his brain telling him to sleep. Liam is out there, in the kitchen getting water. He can hear Liam taking a glass from the cupboard and taking water from the fridge. He fills the water filter and goes back into his own room. 

Harry feels like he could get angry about anything, even the water filter if Liam wouldn’t have filled it. But now there’s no reason. He’s holding Louis and thinking what this all means. He’s staying in New York, Louis is going to London. It’s ending. 

He erases Louis’ name from the list where Deon’s name is written and makes a new list. _Forever loving_ , he names it. He adds Louis’ name and kisses the corner of Louis’ mouth to reserve the list for only one person. 

Consciously he starts to breathe more deeply, counting the seconds he inhales and exhales. His brain calms down, and his heart settles back into its normal rhythm. He hugs Louis a little closer, letting sleep wash over him. 

 

\- -

 

“Come on in,” Niall invites, smiling.

“Thanks,” Harry says, trying to see Louis.

“He’s in his room, cleaning now that there’s nothing left other than his bed,” Niall chuckles.

“Hi, Harry!” Iris greets from the couch, waving at him. Harry nods his head at her, nervous to be here.

 

“So, what are your feelings?” Niall asks him, leaning against the wall.

“Uhh, on what?”

“This week’s finale of course! You’re graduating and everything!” Niall laughs. He seems like he has just drunk a bottle of fairy dust or something, making him the happiest Harry has ever seen him. Maybe it’s the spring sun that affects him, but Harry’s not sure if he can handle his cheerfulness. Especially now.

“I’m nervous,” Harry says, even though he can’t even think about the duo now. All he can think about is Louis moving away at the end of this week.

“Ah, it’s going to go well, I know you can handle it,” Niall pats Harry’s shoulder when Harry walks past him.

 

“We’re going out later, for dinner. Do you want to join us?” Iris asks him, smiling politely. 

“I don’t know yet. We’ll let you know,” Harry smiles back, his eyes fixed on the closed door of Louis’ room. For some reason, he starts to think there’s going to be some sort of a surprise waiting for him in there. 

Niall might say that Louis has only his bed left, but Harry is thinking about candles and flowers, something romantic since this is their last evening together. Well, Louis might come to his on Friday after the show is over. But it’s their last night here. 

 

Harry hasn’t been here in a while now. Louis has been telling him that he doesn’t want to see his room so messy, so they’ve gone to Harry’s instead. Harry doesn’t know how messy it can really be, because Louis usually seems quite neat, if you look past the piles of clothes here and there. 

“I’m just going to…” Harry points towards Louis’ room. Niall and Iris are already deep in their own conversation about a trip they’re doing this summer. He takes a deep breath and knocks on Louis’ door. 

“Yeah!” Louis exclaims inside, making Harry open the door. 

 

No surprise. Just Louis’ bed and a suitcase on the floor overflowing with clothes. 

“Hi, sorry it looks so brutal now,” Louis smiles, kissing Harry hi. He’s washing the window, going straight back to work. 

Harry feels cold, when there’s nothing left. It’s like the room has been stripped naked and it just accepts its new position as the former room of Louis. There’s no life left, just emptiness. 

 

“Keep yourself busy for a moment, I’ll just quickly wash this,” Louis says out of breath, cleaning as fast as he can. Harry sits on the bed, at least it still has a couple of pillows and a duvet left, with bedding. 

“What have you been doing today?” Louis asks him, and Harry doesn’t know if he wants to tell Louis. But he needs to get a distraction from this coldness around him. Louis is the only ray of warm light in this room and soon he’s gone too. 

“I went to the studio and practised, I’ve been checking out some job opportunities.” There, his own future. He has been so wrapped up in Louis’ changing life that he hasn’t given his own life much thought. 

“Even though Niall said we should take a day off before the test runs and final rehearsals?” 

“Yeah, I couldn’t sit at home and do nothing,” Harry rubs his temples and falls backwards, sighing. 

 

“What about the jobs, what did you find?” 

“A few dance companies are looking for new members in their teams, and dance teacher positions, but I’m not really sure what I’m doing,” Harry closes his eyes, wanting to go to sleep for the rest of the week. 

“I think that sounds great, you’d be good as a teacher or in a group,” Louis sounds cheerful, too cheerful. Harry can’t really handle it now, it’s too much. Not when he’s already feeling shaky because of this week, because of Louis. He doesn’t say anything back, just keeps his arms covering his face from the light that’s streaming in through the window. 

 

Suddenly he feels Louis’ hands on him, Louis’ body pressing against his side. 

“You okay?” He asks, more quietly.

“Yeah, just stressed,” Harry says, still not revealing his face behind his forearms. 

 

“Tell me about your plan, what happens next? Where will you live, when will you get all your stuff there?” Harry tries to keep his brain busy from missing Louis, but this might not be the best subject to talk about. Louis falls on his back next to Harry, only his thigh touching Harry’s anymore. 

“I’m leaving the day after the show, at three in the afternoon. I have a place ready for me, it’s a really small flat but I get to live on my own. I’m going to get my stuff that I sent there on the 20th of May… But I don’t know if I’m going to stay at the flat yet, when I go to London. I might spend some time with my family.” The cheerfulness in his voice changes into tiredness. He sighs deeply, talking with a monotonous voice. Harry finally takes his arms off his face, looking at Louis. He’s already looking at Harry. He doesn’t look happy at all. He looks everything except happy. 

 

“Now I’m definitely thinking if I made the right choice,” Louis says quietly, not letting go of Harry’s stare. 

“Don’t go,” Harry tells him immediately. If there’s at least a bit of hope, he’s not going to waste it. But Louis just slowly shakes his head. 

“I feel like shit just now, but I’m going to be happy later,” he smiles grimly, not convincing at all. Harry doesn’t say anything to that. How can he? There’s nothing that could change Louis’ mind.

 

“Just be with me tonight?” Louis asks him, desperate. Harry props himself up on his elbow, hovering over Louis.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says, before he kisses Louis and wishes he wouldn’t taste those salty tears that fall from his eyes. Louis wipes them away, his cheeks pink. 

“We still have a couple of days,” he says, his voice breaking. 

“We still have a couple of days,” Harry repeats, but his body is saying different. They don’t have any time left. They’re going to be at the rehearsals from early morning to night and he knows Louis won’t come over anymore. His heart breaks when Louis pulls him back down, kissing him slowly. 

 

Harry knows it’s their last time. He knows Louis knows it too. This is their last time together in the same bed. Harry takes his time kissing every inch of Louis’ body, touching him, tasting him and breathing him in. He holds Louis and wants Louis to mark him, so he’d have something to remember this moment for. 

He’s going to remember this regardless, but if he’d have at least something, it’d make this even more real. He wants this to be real, but it’s turning into a dream, a really good dream, just as we speak. It was all just a dream, nothing more. It was bound to end, and it’s ending in this small room, in this soft bed, with Louis in his arms, whispering that he wants to say the words but he can’t.

“I love you,” Harry whispers against his skin instead, hoping those words would encourage Louis to just say it. Let go of his fears and say what he wants. But he doesn’t. He only kisses Harry harder, more deeply, until Harry feels like he has nothing else to give. He has already given Louis his heart and his love, now he’s taking Harry’s soul too. 

 

It’s dark outside. it’s already past midnight. Louis is hugging Harry from behind, his forehead against the back of Harry’s neck. Harry can’t make himself close his eyes, he’s afraid he’s going to dream more and see more and hope for more. So, he doesn’t sleep. 

He keeps his eyes open, waiting for the tears to stop. They don’t. Hours pass, Louis turns away and Harry is alone. His heart has turned to cold dust, not really beating anymore. He’s choking on his feelings, forcing him to sit up. He holds his head between his knees, trying to breathe. And he does, he breathes, he’s living. Even though it feels like a part of him has been ripped out. 

 

He looks at Louis, seeing just his silhouette. He watches Louis breathe, not knowing what Harry is thinking, what Harry wants to do. And he does it. Harry puts on his clothes, as quietly as he can, and walks out of Louis’ room without giving him another look. He needs air, he needs to get out of here. He needs to get away from the cemetery of their relationship. 

As soon as he steps out, he bursts into more tears, letting them fall from his eyes and make rivers on his cheeks. They’re painful, making him shiver and sob. They’re making him cry like he has never cried before. He keeps walking, trying to catch his breath even though he’s hyperventilating. 

A few people spare him a worried look, but Harry keeps on going, walking the whole way home. With shaky hands he opens the door, seeing Liam’s jacket hanging on the coat rack. He takes off his shoes and drops his own jacket on the floor. He knocks on Liam’s door and walks in, not waiting for a response. He crawls into Liam’s bed, waking him up. 

 

“Harry, what has happened?” Liam asks groggily, wrapping his arm around Harry and hugging him tightly against his chest. Harry doesn’t say anything, just cries. Until there’s no tears left. Liam doesn’t sleep, he stays awake until Harry as calmed down. 

“It’s now over, for good,” Harry whispers, emptiness hitting him harder than it ever has. He got so used to being with Louis, spending time with him, getting to know him, sharing his thoughts and memories with Louis. And now they’re done, leaving Harry alone. Truly alone. And lonely. 

 

\- -

 

“ _You weren’t here when I woke up?_ ”

“ **I left last night, I didn’t want to wake you up, sorry.** ”

“ _I thought we could’ve had breakfast together before rehearsal..._ ” 

“ **Louis, maybe it’s good that we take a step back. You’re going, I’m staying, you’ve said that yourself. Let’s not torture ourselves anymore.** ”

_Seen, 6.34 am_

 

\- -

 

“Harry, you need to talk with him! This can’t go on!” Liam tells him, giving him a hard look. Harry is crying again, glued to their couch after a long day at the stage. 

“What can I say? He’s going! There’s nothing for me to say anymore!” 

“He will realise that he’s making a huge mistake, if he goes. You need to tell him that. You need to make him see what he’s going to lose. He needs to be convinced and I know you can do it.” 

Harry doesn’t say anything, only stares at his hands. 

 

“He needs a reason to stay, give it to him.” 

“I think I’ve given him a lot of reasons to stay, but he’s not staying. He has said a million times, because I’ve asked him a million times.” 

“But now it’s your last chance. You said he didn’t even look happy! He needs a reason now more than anything, give him that!” 

 

\- -

 

“Have you seen Louis?” Harry asks Lloyd, who is changing into his performance outfit. He glances at Louis’ locker, then at Harry. 

“His stuff is in there, so he must be here somewhere,” he just shrugs, not caring about Harry or Louis at this point. That’s the mood in the locker room. All of the dancers are either warming up, going through their choreo one more time before the performance, listening to the songs, or sitting there with their eyes closed, focusing on what’s to come. 

He has already warmed up, changed into what he’s going to wear on stage and now he needs to find Louis. Soon they need to be lining up behind the curtain, show what they’ve been planning for the audience. But he needs to find Louis, now. 

 

He listened to Liam, and knew that he has been a total idiot. He has been taking distance from Louis, at rehearsals they’ve been together, that’s all. Louis has been pulling away as well, leaving before Harry can say anything to him other than talk about the rehearsals or their choreo. 

It’s all professional now, literally like nothing ever happened between them. He hasn’t been able to get any message through to him either, Louis probably blocked his number. 

 

“I saw him going to the audience lounge,” Wes says, giving Harry a smile. 

“Thanks,” Harry doesn’t stay to wait any longer. He goes straight into the lobby, finding the lounge. He doesn’t care he’s wearing what he’s wearing on the stage, letting the audience see him before the show. He just wants to find Louis and talk with him. He tries to see over everyone’s heads, standing on his tiptoes and going further into the crowd. Now, as he sees the amount of people waiting to see them perform, gets his heart pumping. 

 

But it’s nothing like when he sees Louis. He’s talking to two women, who smile at him and they laugh when Louis is telling them about something animatedly. 

Harry doesn’t know if he should approach or not, if those people are important to Louis. Or if they’re just business people, asking him to join their company after he graduates next year. He sees the clock on the wall, only 15 minutes left before they have to be going on the stage. It’s now or never. 

 

Harry walks forward slowly, the younger woman seeing him. A smile spreads across her face. Harry stops when she says something to Louis and nods Harry’s way. Louis turns around, his eyes glinting. The women look somehow familiar, but Harry can’t put together who they are. 

“What are you doing here?” Louis walks over, his face turning serious right away. 

“I wanted to find you,” Harry says, swallowing hard. His mouth has gone dry like Sahara, and he tries to clear his throat, but it tickles too much that he starts to cough. 

 

“What is it?” 

“Well, nothing…” Louis looks confused. 

“Or a lot, actually.” Harry takes Louis’ hands into his. Louis looks towards the two women, who look away like they wouldn’t care what’s happening in front of their eyes. 

“Can you please say what you want to say? I still need to talk to my mum and sister before the performance,” Louis tilts his head towards the women. 

Harry glances their way, his brain finding the missing pieces. The picture on Louis’ bookshelf when it was still there. The women are from that picture. They both smile at Harry politely, the younger one like she’d know who Harry is. 

 

“Harry?” Louis squeezes Harry’s hands, demanding him to focus. 

“I want you to stay,” Harry says in one breath, surprised that he was able to say it out loud. Louis sighs, shaking his head. He almost pulls away, but Harry holds on tight. 

“Listen, I need you to hear me out,” Harry knows he sounds extremely desperate. Louis stops wriggling away from him, his eyes sad as he listens. 

 

“We could have it all. I could work while you finish your studies here. Then we could look for a place together or travel or move to London if that feels like the right thing. We can still get your stuff back, we can, and then everything will be fine. We’ll be fine. We’d be together. Louis, can you at least for a second give this a chance? We could make it work, we can work it out. We’d be good together. We’d have plans for our future and do what we want. I’ve never wanted to be with someone this badly, I’ve never loved anyone like I love you. Louis, I love you incredibly much. I love you so much. And I need you to stay. You already have my heart, but please consider having everything else too.” Harry says it all so quickly, that he’s out of breath when he finishes. 

“I love you, Louis, please stay, please stay for me, for us,” Harry feels tears in his eyes and they spill. He’s massaging Louis’ hands with his thumbs, trying to make him feel it. Their future together. Louis looks hopeless, his eyes watery. He shakes his head. 

 

“Please, Louis, please stay for us,” Harry tries, but Louis looks away, shaking his head more. 

“No, Harry, I’m not staying. I have to go,” he says, not looking at Harry in the eyes anymore. 

“No, you don’t, you can stay, you can stay with me. Stay with me.” There are people around them watching on at the two, quickly walking away from them when they realise it’s a real conversation about their real future. 

“Harry, I need to go. I want to go. I want to. I made a decision and I’m going.” Louis is breathing heavily, like they’d share the same dagger to stab each other in the chest. 

 

“I’ll see you backstage,” he says, pulling his hands away from Harry. He wipes away his tears, giving Harry one last look before he turns away towards his mum and sister. 

Harry stares at his back for a moment, feeling his stomach flip and make him sick. He leaves, finding the closest toilet. He bends over the toilet bowl, trying to get out what wants to come out, but nothing does. Only sobs that he’d want to trade for anything else other than the ache in his chest. 

He splashes his face with cold water, and breathes deeply for a moment. He closes his eyes, trying to forget what just happened. He starts to think about the choreo, the song they’re going to dance to. His nerves fill his body, but it doesn’t replace the sorrow and hurt. 

He goes to the backstage area, everyone already in their place. He sees Louis on the other side of the stage, on the sidelines, behind the heavy red curtains that fall from the ceiling. Louis is staring at him, and even from afar Harry can see him breathing deliberately, trying to keep himself together. 

 

The show begins. The first group of dancers come on stage and music fills the hall. People clap when they start dancing, then there’s only music. Louis is watching the dancers, Niall next to him. Niall has his arm around Louis’ shoulders, squeezing Louis against his side. The song seems never-ending, it goes on and on and on. Everyone else can only watch them dance, and mentally prepare for their own part. 

Lloyd starts the solos, earning loud cheers from the crowd with his effortless movement. Then it’s Harry’s turn to run on the stage with one of the groups. He can’t see the audience through the bright lights. They blind him and make him lose control for a moment, but he doesn’t make any mistakes. 

He finds a focal point from Louis’ eyes during pirouettes and stares into the darkness in front of him when he’s facing the crowd. He thinks he doesn’t breathe at all during the routine, it just goes past and suddenly he’s off the stage. Everyone is hugging each other, wishing Ezra and Vin good luck with the first duo. 

 

The music changes, and changes, a new group coming on stage after the duo which got the crowd on their feet wanting more. Louis is on the stage, dancing so beautifully that Harry shivers. He’d want to run after him, when his group is finished. But he can’t. Wes goes on the stage. He looks nervous, nodding at Niall to put on the music. He dances, almost losing his balance at one part, but manages to continue. Harry’s not even sure if anyone saw it, other than their group who have seen Wes dance his choreo many times. 

 

It’s the last group. Harry can’t hear the music anymore, it only hums in his ears. He sees Louis on the other side, his hand on his chest. He’s breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth. Someone brings the table next to Harry, the chairs on the other side of the stage. He sees the group dancing, no one makes a mistake. And then they’re done. 

Lloyd brings the table on the stage, Ezra and Vin bring the chairs. There’s complete silence in the hall. Harry walks out, and sits down on his chair on the other side of the table. The crowd claps, it mixes in Harry’s ears with his heartbeat. Louis stares at him and takes one last breath. 

 

The song begins. Louis walks out. The crowd is quiet on the other side of the lights. He sits down, and Harry reaches towards him, pain shooting up and down his whole body. He breathes, Louis breathes with him. They hold onto each other, bruising each other’s skin, steadying their unsteady bodies. Harry knows he’s crying, mouthing the words, but he doesn’t care. 

“If you love me, don’t let go,” he whispers to the music, letting himself feel. He lets himself do this as he has always wanted, he lets himself love. It doesn’t matter if Louis says it back or not, this is Harry with his chest open, giving his beating heart to Louis. 

 

He takes it. Louis has his eyes closed when Harry guides him through the choreo. He dances effortlessly, flying through the air in Harry’s arms. He jumps in the air and Harry catches him, not wanting to let go. He doesn’t want to feel his arms empty, his body empty of this feeling he has around Louis. 

He keeps whispering the lyrics to Louis, knowing that he might look stupid to the audience. He doesn’t care at this point. He lives and breathes for the song, dances through it with determination and love. Admiration and respect. Love; his love for Louis keeps him breathing through the heavy tears. 

 

The song is almost over. Louis drapes his arms around Harry’s neck, his face pressed against Harry’s skin. He’s saying something, his lips moving, but Harry can’t hear it over the music or distinguish it from his skin. They’re just words Louis almost chants, until they have to let go. They sit back down, and Harry pulls his hands back. Louis stares at him, his face stained with tears as well. 

The song ends. There’s just silence. Harry doesn’t breathe for a while. He stares at Louis, sees him breaking in front of Harry into millions of little pieces like a crystal heart. Shining and beautiful. It breaks, leaving only devastation in its wake. 

 

The audience cheers, but Harry’s ears are ringing. He runs off the stage with Louis, holding his hand. They stop when they’re safe from the audience’s eyes. Louis turns around, making Harry smash against his shivering body, and he holds on. 

He holds on tightly, tears falling like pearls from his eyes. He kisses Harry in front of everyone. He doesn’t let go and he kisses an aching kiss on Harry’s lips. Harry tastes his tears, mixing with his own tears. He hugs Louis against his chest, wrapping his arms around Louis’ waist and chaining Louis to his body. 

 

“I’m so sorry Harry, I shouldn’t have let this go on for this long. I’m sorry I’m hurting you, please forgive me,” he begs against Harry’s lips, his hands fisting Harry’s hair. Harry shakes his head and gives Louis another kiss. 

“It was all worth it,” Harry manages to say. 

 

Slowly Louis pulls away. First his fingers, then his hands, then his chest. He steps back. He’s breathing through his mouth, his eyes red. Louis turns his back to Harry, leaving him. 

Harry doesn’t care that the whole team saw them. He doesn’t care that the next dance team also saw them on the other side of the stage. He doesn’t care that now everyone knows it wasn’t just about dancing for them. 

 

He falls to his knees, not able to stand anymore. He can’t feel his hands, cold sweat streaming against his back. Someone places their hand on Harry’s shoulder. He looks up and sees Niall, not able to look Harry in the eyes. 

it was all worth it. 

 

\- -

 

Harry drags his feet, walking into their usual studio. Most of the group is already there, some follow Harry through the door. He doesn’t care about this last meeting. He doesn’t care he’s graduating tomorrow. 

It’s three days after, Monday. 

He sits on the floor, Nico next to him. Nico has his arm around Harry, even though to Harry it feels like he’s being held by a ghost. 

 

“Okay, everyone seems to be here,” Niall tells the group, turning towards a TV where he’ll show the group their performances. 

Not all are here. One is missing. 

 

Harry watches the performances, not remembering any of them. He forgot them right after. He sees himself on the screen in one of the groups, dancing the choreo they had practised for months. And now there’s nothing left of it in his memory. It might be the sleep deprivation or his headache from crying too much over the weekend. Maybe it’s because he hasn’t eaten properly since Thursday. 

Their duo comes on. He turns his eyes away, not able to watch it. He hears the song and it sounds foreign. Did they really choose a song like that? They were out of their minds to do that. 

Some clap after the song ends and Harry knows that the choreo is over. He looks up, seeing himself and Louis on the screen, sitting at the table. He notices Wes clapping, not able to look at Harry. 

 

“What do you think, how did it go for your part?” Niall asks after he stops the DVD. There, on the screen, are two empty chairs and a table. Harry closes his eyes, only listening and trying to forget the pain in his body. He feels like he’s decaying on this floor, too tired and too heavy to be a human. 

People talk, sharing their own experience and thoughts. Harry can’t focus on any of it. He opens his eyes, seeing Niall looking at him. But he doesn’t demand Harry to say anything. He always knew Niall was good with people. He knows if something’s wrong and if someone needs time or space. Or both, like now. 

 

They sit on the floor for a couple of hours. Harry ends up lying on the floor, but not able to close his eyes. The light that streams in through the windows is like rainbows against the ceiling. They remind Harry of Louis’ room, the way he liked to watch the ceiling and the different shapes on it. 

He doesn’t hear when Niall lets them leave. Nico stands over Harry, and helps him up. 

“You want to have lunch with me?” He asks, but Harry only shakes his head. 

“Call me later, okay? Let me know if there’s something I can do,” he hugs Harry, squeezing him tightly, before he lets go and leaves. Harry stares at the door, and sighs. He knows how to walk, but his legs aren’t working. He tries to lift them up, but they don’t do as they’re told. So, he drags them against the floor. 

 

“Harry?” Niall calls after him, only when he has taken a couple of steps. Harry looks back. Niall reminds him of Louis too much. The ache in his chest only gets worse.

“How are you holding up?” Niall walks over to him, his hand on Harry’s shoulder. 

“Not great,” Harry mumbles, his heart beating unevenly. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry it had to go that way for you two. I know Louis loves you,” he says, smiling gently. 

“Loved, he loved me, doesn’t love me anymore.” Niall doesn’t say anything to that. 

It’s easier for Harry to think this way. At least then he doesn’t have to think about the possibilities of what could’ve been, even though they creep into his mind all the time. And if he thinks that Louis has already gotten over him, it’s easier to think that Louis really wanted to leave and not look back. That he made the choice to go, without any other options. 

 

“This is actually not something that I wanted to talk to you about. Earlier this morning I got a call, and they wanted to speak with you. Apparently, my number was some sort of a bridge to get to you,” he hands his phone to Harry. 

The number is there, not something Harry recognises. He’s afraid it’s Louis, but Niall probably would’ve said if it was. Right? He presses the call button and presses the phone against his ear. He waits for someone to answer with shaky hands, sitting down on the floor in the middle of the studio. Niall stays with him, a smile on his face. He busies himself with something, in a safe distance away. 

 

Someone answers, but Harry doesn’t catch who answers and where the call is from. The person on the other end is a woman, who sounds bubbly.

“Hello? This is Harry Styles, you had tried to reach me?” He wonders where he gets the strength to speak. 

“I’m sorry could you repeat who you are, so I know who I’m talking with,” Harry asks the woman, who chuckles. 

“Hello, Harry. I’m Samantha Wilson, from the Institute of Modern and Contemporary Dance. I had tried to reach you, because one of our headhunters saw your performance on Friday and suggested we’d have a bit of a dig around.” 

 

Harry still doesn’t understand. He listens, he registers what the woman is saying, but that’s it. 

“We’ve understood you’re graduating now?” 

“Yes, tomorrow,” Harry mumbles. He needs to take a hold of himself to sound at least a little awake. 

 

“Well, if you’re interested, we’d like to offer you a place in one of our modern dance groups. We’d want to see a short video introduction of yourself, as a matter of form, but you have a place in one of our groups if you’re interested.”

“You’re offering me a place from a dance company?” Harry hopes he heard wrong. 

“Yes, we are. Our headhunter had filmed your performance from Friday and we were impressed by your way of expression.” Her voice breathes a little life into his body. 

“Yes, I’m interested, definitely interested!” Harry agrees, his heart beating for the first time in days. 

“Excellent! We’ll send an email to your group director today to take care of the formalities, for certificates and references.” 

“Okay, okay, thank you, wow,” Harry breathes. 

 

“When would I start then?” 

“In August, we’re going to send you all the information on financial aid for moving here, and the pay. When you start, then we’ll write all the official forms and papers, but your name has already been confirmed on our end.” 

“Excuse me? Moving where?” Harry sees Niall approaching. He sits opposite from Harry, a mischievous smile on his face. 

“London.” The woman says. 

“What?” 

“The opening is in London,” she repeats, chuckling. Niall starts to smile even wider. 

“Okay, in London. I’m moving to London. Okay,” Harry says, his eyes standing still. 

“We’ll get back to you through email, so we can get the process started.” 

“Okay, thank you,” Harry tries to breathe, but isn’t sure if he really is. 

 

“Thank you for getting back to us and we look forward to having you on our team,” she says, happiness flowing through the phone. 

“No problem, thank you.” The woman still says something, but Harry has already dropped the phone on the floor. 

 

“Congratulations Harry! You’re going to London!” Niall yells and hugs him. Harry’s in a daze, not knowing what to do. It was good he wasn’t standing, he would’ve fallen down as soon as he would’ve heard where the woman was calling. He moves in slow motion, feeling his lungs catching up and letting him breathe. 

London. He’s going to London. Maybe it’s their time after all. 

 

\- -

 

“Come on in!” Liam is at the door, hugging everyone. People are streaming into their apartment, just an endless flow of people Harry’s not sure he knows. Until he sees some familiar faces. 

“Niall! Iris!” He says, coming closer with a glass of some cocktail Liam made in his hand. The music is playing loudly from their stereo, but still, everyone manages to talk to each other. Harry feels a bit suffocated since he’s not sure who everyone is and if this was a good idea after all. 

A going away party. Liam wanted to have one, because his “favourite flatmate is leaving me all alone”. He was happy for Harry, when Harry told him about the job and that he’s taking it. Of course he was happy. 

He might’ve shed a few tears, but only because he was so happy. At least that’s what Liam told Harry. It didn’t seem that believable, though, because he left right after and said that he’s really busy over the summer. Later he told Harry he had rented them a car so they could do a road trip to California. Harry felt bad, but Liam told him not to worry, that he’d have someone else to take with him. And he did. Who it was, is a question mark, but it was someone Liam didn’t want Harry to know about at the beginning of summer. 

 

“Hey!” Iris hugs him first, then Niall. They’re standing in the foyer awkwardly, Liam welcoming more people inside. 

“Leave your jackets and shoes here, and follow me,” Harry instructs, feeling at least a little more comfortable now that he knows someone from the endless party crowd. People are nodding their heads to the music, some dancing in their place and drinking their concoctions. 

 

“Your move is close now, isn’t it?” Iris asks him when Harry gives her and Niall drinks. 

“Yeah, at the end of next week.” 

“And you’ve, I guess, already sent everything to London?” 

“Yeah,” Harry nods his head. He sips his drink and grimaces at the strong taste. Liam clearly wants people to be drunk after this evening. In their small apartment, the temperature is rising in the July evening, and people are fanning themselves with anything they can think of. Harry thinks he sees someone trying to cool off by shaking their phone in front of their face. 

 

“Though it was weird to see that I didn’t have that much to take with me. I’m glad I haven’t bought useless shit along these years I’ve lived here,” Harry chuckles, but feels more sad than pleased by his words. 

Has he lived at all while he was in New York? What has he even done while he has been here, other than danced and guys? Did he start living this year? It feels like lately, he has seen much more than he usually has. 

He has focused on the way the sun feels against his face or how the air smells. Or how the grass feels under his hands when he’s sitting in Central Park. Or what noises he can hear on the street; what people are talking about or if they laugh, he records them in his mind to play the funniest laughs to himself again. 

 

“Are you happy to go?” Niall asks him, drinking the contents of his glass in one quick chuck. Harry stares at him, thinking if he has also lost his old ways of drinking. He can’t even grasp the idea to drink whatever Liam has mixed in the punch. 

He should answer, he really should. But he can’t. He stares at Niall and Iris, trying to get the right words out, but he can’t. He can’t even remember what the right answer is. So, he says what’s on his mind, not what they probably want to hear. 

“I’m nervous,” he tells them. Iris smiles understandingly, reaching her hand towards his arm. Her skin is tanned, probably from their Europe round trip they made earlier this summer. 

“It’s a big change,” Niall nods his head, and takes more punch. 

 

“Excuse me,” Harry smiles at them, not knowing how genuine it looks. Liam has finally closed the door and there are no new people knocking on their door. It looks like everyone is immersed in their own conversations, laughter and words mixing together. 

Harry stares at them for a moment, feeling like an outsider. He leaves his drink on a table and puts on his shoes, leaving the party behind. He stands in the hallway for a moment, trying to think what he could do now, where he could go. 

He needs some peace and quiet. He needs to get away from the noise and the heat, to get a breather and see what he’s going to say goodbye to. He walks the stairs up, one at a time, taking his time reaching the roof. He opens the door and is met with Liam, with someone, kissing heatedly. 

 

“Oh!” Harry says, looking away. Liam and the woman take a step back from each other, staring at Harry. Her lipstick is smudged around her mouth and Liam doesn’t look better either. 

“What are you doing here?” Liam asks him, and Harry glances at him, seeing his friend with his cheeks red and dishevelled hair. 

“Jemima?” Harry asks, finally recognising who Liam is with. Her skin glows in the last light of the day, and her dark eyes happy. 

“Congrats on your job!” She says and smiles dashingly. 

 

“When did you two get together?” Harry can’t help but wonder. 

“A while back, we’ve been taking it slow,” Liam tells him, wrapping his arm around her and looking happy. Harry has never seen Liam like this. 

“I guess you aren’t taking it slow anymore,” Harry chuckles, and the two smirk back. 

“Yeah, I’m introducing her to my dad next week,” Liam tells him, clearly missing the point. 

“I think he meant seeing us here,” Jemima whispers into Liam’s ear. 

“Oooh!” Liam gasps, and Harry can’t help but laugh at his clueless friend. 

 

“Maybe he needs to ease on the punch,” Harry tells her. 

“I agree, I want to go out with him later,” she says, flipping her afro with a flick of her hand. 

“I’m happy for you guys,” Harry doesn’t know why he feels so sappy that his best friend has found someone he truly cares about. Maybe Liam even went to the road trip with Jemima, at least it would make sense.

“Awwww, Harry!” Jemima coos, hugging him when he steps closer. 

 

“You want to be alone or?” Liam asks him, holding Jemima’s hand gently in his. 

“Yeah, please,” Harry walks out towards the railing, admiring the view in front of him. 

“Don’t stay out here for too long!” Liam exclaims over his shoulder, Jemima pulling him inside. 

 

“Liam?” He turns when he hears Harry’s voice. 

“Is Nico coming?” 

“Yeah, he texted me that he’s going to be a bit late,” Liam smiles, leaving Harry on his own. 

 

He breathes the fresher air. It’s still warm, but there’s a pleasant breeze cooling his skin. The city lights are beautiful, one thing he’ll miss from New York. He looks up towards the sky, not seeing anything else other than the city lights; one thing he’s not going to miss. He hopes London hasn’t changed too much. He hopes he’ll settle in. 

When he told his sister and mum about him coming home, they both started crying. 

“I haven’t seen you in so long,” his mum wept, smiling through the Skype video call. 

 

He’s happy to see his family. Maybe he can finally face what he left behind. He has been more in touch with his sister and she’s coming to pick him up from the airport. 

It’s almost weird that in a week he’ll be in London and he already has plans for what he’s doing there first. He’s going to spend a day with his mum and sister, then he’s moving into his apartment. His work starts on Monday. He sighs, overwhelmed by it all. 

How is this even happening, when he thought he’d get a job from New York and live here like he had always thought. And now it’s all changing and not going as he had planned for himself.

 

“Harry?” He hears Niall’s Irish accent filling the air, even stronger now that he has had a few drinks. 

“Do you mind if I join you, Liam told me you’re up here,” he smiles from the doorway. 

“Yeah, sure,” Harry turns back towards the city, listening to sirens wailing in the distance. 

 

“Why are you here?” Niall asks when he mirrors Harry and leans his elbows against the railing. 

“I needed to get a breather.” He shakes his head, feeling surprisingly emotional now that his departure is coming closer. 

“How’re you doing?” 

“Good, good, nervous, but good.” 

“That’s good,” Niall pokes his shoulder against Harry’s. 

 

“Are you at least a bit excited to go?” Niall sounds really serious suddenly, truly concerned for Harry. 

“Yes! I am, it’s just a big change.” 

“Change is good sometimes,” Niall sighs, looking out towards the city appreciatively. 

“I think I need it,” Harry chuckles, finally realising how he really wants that change. He doesn’t want to live a boring life that’s dictated by some city he’s living in. He wants to _live_ his life, do unexpected things and when he’s old, realise that he did live his life to the fullest. 

 

“We’re going to miss you,” Niall says, his brows raised, beaming at Harry. 

“If they wouldn’t have called back then, I would’ve offered you a place as a dance instructor at Juilliard,” Niall shrugs, sounding serious. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, since I’m going away too.” 

“What? Where?” 

 

Niall sighs, a smile on his face. A smile even Harry has never seen. 

“I asked Iris to marry me today. And we’re moving to Dublin,” he chuckles, his cheeks tinted pink. 

“What!” Harry can’t hide his joy. 

“Congratulations!” He hugs Niall, feeling like everything is just clicking in place. 

“How long have you even been together now?” 

“Almost two years. I didn’t want to wait anymore, you just know when you’re with the person you want to spend your life with,” he looks content, happy in a way Harry has always wanted to feel. Maybe he was as content before, when he was with Louis. But it all just crumbled in his hands. 

 

“Have you thought about meeting Louis when you get to London?” Niall asks him after a moment of silence. 

“I don’t know, maybe… I don’t know though, he probably has someone new already and he’s living his dream life.” Harry chuckles mirthlessly. Maybe that’s the reason why this still feels like such a weird thing to do. 

He’s going to London where the man he loves moved just a couple of months ago. He doesn’t want to seem desperate, or like he’s running after Louis. This isn’t some romantic comedy ending where the main couple get each other in the end. 

 

“You really think he has gotten over you so quickly?” Niall tilts his head, looking at Harry disapprovingly. 

“He’s in London, it’s Louis we’re talking about, he’s attractive, of course he has found someone new.” 

“Yes, we’re talking about Louis, who was afraid to tell you he loves you and afraid of committing to you.” 

“Because he was leaving,” Harry doesn’t want to have a conversation about this anymore. 

 

“Did he ever tell you that he hadn’t had a serious relationship? Not here or in London? Did he ever tell you why?” Niall asks, finally making Harry think. 

“He did once say that he hadn’t been in love?” He looks at Niall, trying to find answers. 

“Because he didn’t want to get hurt. He always thought only about dancing and he forgot himself. He changed so much when he was with you, you don’t even know,” Niall rolls his eyes. 

 

“How do you know that?” 

“He told me once,” he says it’s like the most obvious thing. Of course, Louis has talked about it. But not with Harry. 

 

“He’s not seeing anyone,” Niall tells Harry, and when Harry glances at him, he’s smiling like he’s offering diamonds on a silver platter. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes, because he’s in love with you.” 

“And how do you know that?” 

“He keeps asking me about you, because he’s too afraid to ask it straight from you,” Niall shakes his head. 

“To be young and in love,” Niall mumbles. 

 

“You know, I haven’t told him you’re moving to London,” Niall adds, wrapping his arm around Harry’s shoulder. 

“You should meet up with him, you know it too.” 

Harry does know it. He has been thinking about it, but every time he gets cold feet. He can’t understand what’s wrong with him, why can’t he just call Louis. Though now he doesn’t even know Louis’ number anymore. 

He did text Louis the day after the performance, but he never saw it. It just waited there, “ **I wish you a safe journey to London** ”. It was all he could do, it was all he could say. He didn’t want to say anything at first, but he wanted to show Louis at least in some way that he supports Louis’ decision. Even though it hurt, he still supported Louis. Still does, always will. 

 

“Look at you two lovebirds!” Nico laughs. 

“Well hello hello!” Niall greets. Nico walks over and wraps his arm around Harry’s shoulder as well. 

 

“What secrets are we sharing here?” He asks, swaying Harry side to side. 

“I just told him that he needs to meet up with Louis when he’s in London,” Niall leans forward to see Nico. 

“That’s what I’ve been telling him all summer! But he doesn’t want to believe me,” he shakes his head, so does Niall, but with sympathy. 

“He has probably found someone new already,” Nico imitates Harry’s voice, dropping it low and talking slow. Niall laughs loudly, filling the rooftop with joy. 

 

“You have to invite me to every show you have there,” Nico tells him, his head on Harry’s shoulder.

“I will.” 

“And you have to talk with Louis,” Niall reminds him.

“I will.” 

 

“C’mon, I want to introduce you to my boyfriend,” Nico pats Harry’s back. 

“Your boyfriend, I didn’t even know you have one,” Harry looks at him surprised. 

“Yeah, well, we made it official just a while ago. I’ve been introducing him to everyone today. I bet he’s already sick and tired of it,” Nico chuckles. 

“Okay, let’s go meet this boyfriend,” Harry smiles and follows him with Niall. 

 

They walk off the rooftop just as the sun sets and darkness falls over the city with blinking lights. Harry closes the door, giving the place one last look, knowing that he’s making the right thing. 

He just needs to find the courage to find Louis again. 

 

\- -

 

Harry’s alarm goes off. He snoozes it, turning in his bed and wrapping himself more tightly in his duvet. Just a few more minutes. 

He wakes up. Sun is shining unusually brightly. For a moment he needs to just look around himself, see what walls surround him, what’s that doorway that’s in a new place, what’s that window that didn’t face the sun before. London. 

He picks up his phone from the bedside table, his heart hammering. Five to nine. As in 08.55! 

 

“Oh shit!” He drops his phone on his bed and runs out of the bed, straight into the shower. He still hasn’t figured out how it works, not sure how he’ll get warm water. He shakes under the ice-cold stream, waking up completely. 

He brushes his teeth and brushes his hair at the same time, his brain pushed to the limits. He drops his towel on the floor, running back into his bedroom to try to find something to wear. He didn’t think it through when he unpacked his books and not his clothes. He throws things out of their boxes, finding a pair of briefs and a shirt, pulling his jeans from yesterday on. 

 

He doesn’t have time to have breakfast. He only grabs his bag (which he did luckily pack because he can never function in the morning to take everything he needs) and his phone, running out the door with his shoes undone. He takes the elevator, pushing the laces of his shoes in and hoping he’ll manage to the tube to tie them properly. 

He should be at the studio at 9.15. He’s never going to make it in time. He waits for the tube on the platform with too many people, checking the time every thirty seconds, wishing the tube would come soon. 

He runs in, and out when he’s on the right stop. He’s out of breath when he reaches the building, his new workplace. He sees a clock on the wall, 9.34. He curses, and keeps on running. He tries to find the right studio, studio number 37. He knows he’s frantically looking for the right place, his heart hammering. This is not the right way to start his first day. 

 

37\. He knocks on the door and steps inside. People are inside, listening to a woman talk in front of everyone else. He gives an apologetic look to people, who turn to look at him. He tries to calm his frantic breaths, keeping quiet in the back. 

“So, let’s go meet this group!” The woman says cheerfully. 

“Excuse me, where are we going?” Harry asks a young woman and a guy, who smile at him. 

“We’re going to be performing with another dance group this year, so we’re seeing them perform a rehearsed piece in an auditorium not too far away,” she says politely. 

 

“You’re new here,” the man notes, reaching his hand forward. 

“I’m Sam, this is Ashley,” he introduces. Harry shakes both of their hands. 

“Harry, nice to meet you,” he’s still catching his breath. 

 

“Where are you from, I haven’t seen you in any of our performances before?” The woman asks, tilting her head and eyeing Harry curiously. 

“New York, graduated from Juilliard this spring,” Harry tells them, clutching the strap of his bag tightly. 

“Amazing!” 

“How was it, Juilliard, is it as tough as people say?” Sam asks him. He reminds Harry of a puppy. 

“It can be tough, but you get used to it,” Harry chuckles. 

 

“Are you two related, you look similar,” Harry can’t help it. They share the same colour eyes, the same colour hair, the same chins. 

“Twins,” Ashley laughs. 

 

They walk towards the auditorium, Harry recognising it to be the Royal Academy’s auditorium. They walk in a tight bunch, talking and people getting to know each other. 

“There’s going to be a party this evening at Cargo, you should come along,” Sam invites when they’ve talked about their dance history and their mood about starting at the dance company. 

“Yeah, sounds great, thanks!” Harry feels like he’s fitting in much better than he first thought he would. Actually, it’s making him excited for what’s to come. He just wants to dance. 

 

“Welcome, we’re one of Royal Academy’s dance groups and we’ll be working together this year on a production that will be performed on spring season. The production will consist of group, and duo choreographies, and will have about 60 dancers on stage,” a young man introduces. Harry takes out his phone, finding Nico’s number. 

“ **Guess who is performing in a dance production with groups and duos next spring?** ” Harry smiles, and sends the message when the music starts. 

He watches people running out on the stage, full of energy and grace. He feels goose bumps rising on his skin, his foot tapping to the rhythm of the music. The group is huge, and they all know what they’re doing. Harry is nervous, especially now when he sees the level of these dancer’s skills. 

 

“ _I’ll be there!_ ” Nico answers, typing another message. 

“ _Have you messaged Louis yet?_ ” 

“ **No, I don’t even know his number.** ” 

“ _chop chop, I know you miss him._ ” 

He’s right. Especially now when Harry is here, in London, he can’t stop thinking about Louis. He sees Louis’ face everywhere, on every person that walks past him. He gets startled every time he hears a voice that reminds him of Louis’ voice, and he expects to see Louis, but then gets bitterly disappointed, when it’s someone else. 

 

“ **Why are you awake anyway? It’s only 5 am for you?** ” Harry looks up towards the stage, before his phone vibrates in his hand again. 

“ _I wasn’t able to sleep, first day as a director at Juilliard and everything…_ ” 

“ **You’re taking Niall’s job to produce next year’s spring program?** ” 

“ _Most likely, the board likes to see what I can come up with with the group, then they’ll decide._ ” 

“ **You’re going to be fine, I know you will.** ” 

 

The music ends, and Harry looks up, clapping with everyone else. Maybe he should’ve watched the dancers rather than texted with Nico. Oh well, he’ll get to dance with them soon enough, this wasn’t his only chance at seeing them perform.

“We’d like to introduce ourselves to you,” the young man from earlier tells the group sitting in the audience. People begin to tell their names and where they’ve studied. Harry’s phone buzzes in his lap. 

 

“ _Thanks, I need it._ ” 

“ _You think this is good for the first time I meet the group?_ ” He sends a picture of himself wearing a sweatshirt and long shorts, his hair a mess like he would’ve just gotten out of bed. 

“ **Yeah, that’s good.** ” 

 

“Louis Tomlinson, Juilliard,” Harry hears before he gets to press send. Harry lifts his gaze towards the stage, his heart skipping a few beats. 

There he is. Standing right in front of Harry, front row, his eyes on Harry. He smiles shyly, his cheeks pink. He has cut his hair. He looks so different, but still the same. Harry can’t get his eyes off Louis, even though Louis looks away to watch others in the crowd. Until his eyes drift back to Harry and he bites his lips together, trying to keep his smile at bay. 

 

“Maybe we could grab some breakfast together, get to know each other as a group?” The woman from the dance company suggests. Everyone hum their approval, the royal academy group walking off the stage, probably backstage. 

“Do you know that one from the front row?” Ashley asks, when they’re walking out towards the lobby to wait for the others. 

“The guy from Juilliard?” Sam adds. They surround Harry with bright eyes. 

“We saw how you smiled at each other, you must be at least friends, if not more,” Ashley giggles, her voice making joy bubble in Harry as well. 

“Yeah, we were in the same group, danced a duo last spring, became friends,” Harry tries to keep it short, his eyes flicking back towards the auditorium to see if Louis would walk out of there. 

This is definitely in the hands of some higher power than himself or Louis. 

 

Sam and Ashley keep gushing over the fact that Harry knows Louis. They try to dig more info from him, but Harry’s not giving them anything other than that he knows Louis, decorating his words with raised brows. 

He sees Louis walking with a small group of people, and he finds Harry easily. He smiles, tilting his head in a hello, but walking past Harry. He looks free, happy to be here, his face glowing and his eyes sparkling. 

 

Harry is walking around the fancy brunch place, where there’s only high tables and floor to ceiling windows overlooking London. He sips on his tea, stopping in front of one of the windows, finding a moment for himself after talking for about an hour with different people and getting to know the producers of the program. 

“Here you are,” he hears a familiar voice. Louis walks next to him, sighing. 

“Hi,” he says and smiles. Harry feels like he might lose his balance in a second, his heart might not be beating anymore. 

“Hi,” he smiles and takes a too big of a mouthful of tea, the liquid burning his tongue. 

 

“I didn’t know you applied to come to London?” Louis raises his brows. Harry feels Louis’ warmth next to him, radiating electricity.

“Apparently there was a headhunter at the spring production and saw our duo. They offered me the place.” 

“Impressive,” Louis chuckles. Harry feels awkward as hell, not knowing why he’s so stiff. He’s trying to stand casually, but he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He tries to find a comfortable way to stand next to Louis, but he’s only squirming. It’s so obvious he’s nervous. Louis watches him from the corner of his eyes, his brows rising. 

 

“So…” Louis laughs, his voice easy and bringing up emotions that light Harry on fire. 

“Yeah…” Harry glances at Louis and smirks, not sure what he should do know. Is it appropriate to tell Louis that he’s still in love with him?

“Are you coming to Cargo tonight?” Louis asks, like it would’ve just come to his mind. 

“Yeah,” Harry nods, sipping on his tea and wishing the burning on his tongue would ease soon. He puts his hand into his jeans pocket, but doesn’t feel natural so he drops it, letting his hand wave weirdly between them. 

“Okay, well, I’ll see you there then,” Louis says, hesitating for a moment. He turns towards Harry and hugs him quickly, his hand getting caught in Harry’s jacket pocket. He smiles stepping back. 

“I’m glad to see you here,” he says, before he turns around and walks back into the group of dancers, disappearing.

 

The rest of the day goes in a haze. Harry doesn’t talk with Louis after their awkward encounter, but he sees Louis smiling at him in many instances. They finish their brunch and Harry is free to leave home. He’s not sure what he’s doing, why he’s so nervous, why he’s acting like a teenager who has never felt love. 

He leans against his door when he gets home. He closes his eyes and breathes, or at least tries to breathe. He feels weird, somehow incomplete. He puts his hands into his pockets, feeling a piece of paper digging against his palm. He takes it out, knowing that it wasn’t there earlier. 

“I’ve missed you,” it reads. Louis. Harry’s heart hammers, through his chest, in his ears. Those words make him open his eyes. 

 

“Niall?” He asks as soon as his call is answered. 

“Harry?” 

“Hi! Hey!” Harry laughs nervously, his hands shaking. 

 

“I was wondering if you have Louis’ address?” He has a pen ready, Louis’ note turned upside down on the table. 

“Yeah, just a sec,” there’s some rustling at Niall’s end, before he gives Harry the address. 

“Thanks!” Harry doesn’t wait for Niall to say something, he only ends the call, pushes his phone and his keys into his pocket and keeps the piece of paper in his hand. 

 

He reaches Louis’ apartment in no time. He tries the door, it’s not locked. He climbs the stairs, out of breath, his mind in a happy twist. 

He stands behind Louis’ door, and knocks. Waits, knocks again. He hears sounds from inside. 

“Just a second!” He hears Louis’ voice, muffled through the door. 

The door opens, and Louis is there, his eyes wide, a towel wrapped around his waist, water dripping from his hair and his skin wet. 

 

“I missed you too,” Harry says, before he embraces Louis, his lips finding Louis’ like they wouldn’t have been apart. Louis breathes into his mouth, holding on tight. 

Harry can’t stop smiling, happiness flowing in his body. He hears the door close behind him, relieved he’s here. He’s here. Louis is here. He gets to kiss Louis, touch him, hold him, and there’s no time limit.

 

“You’re going to stay in London?” Louis asks, drawing the lines of ink on Harry’s chest. 

“Yes,” his hand keeps caressing Louis’ back, feeling the shivers rising in Louis’ body. 

“You’re not leaving?” Louis asks. 

“No.” Harry feels Louis kissing his chest, right over his heart. He keeps on drawing the lines of Harry’s tattoos. 

 

“Harry?” 

“Mmhmm?” 

Louis doesn’t say anything. Harry feels his heart thumping against Harry’s ribs, before he looks up, his mouth half open. 

“We could do it, we could be together,” he says, a hint of a smile on his lips. Harry nods, brushing Louis’ hair back. He wants to say more, but he looks away. He gives another kiss on Harry’s chest, holding his lips against Harry’s skin. 

 

“I love you,” he says, looking up, his eyes innocent. 

“I didn’t stop when I left,” he tells Harry, open, not hiding. Harry can’t hide his smile, his ecstatic feelings, and he starts to laugh. 

“Why are you laughing! This is serious!” Louis laughs with him though, his nose against Harry’s. Harry’s laughter dies down into a smile, then only into a hint of it, until there’s no laughter. 

“Suddenly it’s not so funny,” Harry whispers, his hands wrapping around Louis’ body. Louis shakes his head, _no_.

 

“I love you too, never stopped, even when you walked away,” Harry tells him, puzzle pieces that didn’t fit into place earlier now clicking together. 

Louis kisses him, and it feels different. Not like their earlier kisses. Not like the kisses that told more than a thousand words. This kiss tells a million words. Hopes. Dreams. Future. 

Maybe there is a romantic comedy ending after all. Maybe there is a silver lining that can turn into a silver cloud. Maybe there is hope after all, even when it’s more like a tragedy. Maybe there is love. 

“But if you love me, don’t let go,” Louis hums, quietly, his forehead pressed against Harry’s temple. Harry tightens his hold around Louis, never letting go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was it, the end. I'm sad to let this fic go, but all good things must come to an end... I'd really like to know your thoughts either here or on [tumblr](https://shadowofyoursong.tumblr.com/) :)  
> I also have [a tumblr post](https://shadowofyoursong.tumblr.com/post/164643223767/you-love-me-if-you-love-me-dont-let-go-by) for this fic if you're interested to share it :) 
> 
> I'll be back later <3


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